Thrill Switch
by Kiki Cabou
Summary: Scully's in a tie. Doggett's in a skirt. Reyes is wearing a suit, and Mulder is wearing some big-ass heels. Has everyone at the Bureau lost their minds? No, it's just sensitivity training at the FBI --- Role Reversal Day.
1. The Email from Hell

TITLE: THRILL SWITCH  
  
AUTHOR: Kiki Cabou  
  
FEEDBACK: Loverly. R/R or give me something to read with delight at kcabou@hotmail.com.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Any characters you recognize are not mine. New people are my creations. "The X-files" is not mine. I'm just messing with it. It's fun!  
  
ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just let me know.  
  
SUMMARY: Scully's in a tie. Doggett's in a skirt. Reyes is wearing a suit, and Mulder is wearing some big-ass heels. Has everyone at the Bureau lost their minds? No, it's just sensitivity training at the FBI --- Role Reversal Day.  
  
NOTES: This takes place in a strange version of Season Nine where everyone is working at the FBI together. I'm pretending Mulder wasn't fired, Scully wasn't pregnant, and now they, as well as Doggett and Reyes, are co- existing peacefully on the X-files project.  
  
SPOILERS: S8 and 9, generally. Specifically? Um, Pusher, just to know who Holly is. Avatar (Sharon has reconciled with Skinner. They are still married). Fallen Angel, but only because you need to know about Agent Pendrell.  
  
DEDICATION: To all the wonderful folks who have so graciously and kindly reviewed my other stuff on FF.net and elsewhere, and particularly to my awesome friend Traci, who wanted to see some more of "Fox and Friends." She read most of this piece through before I put it up.  
  
CATEGORY: Story/Humor/Romance/DRR/MSR/SkinnerSharonR  
  
SOME POINTLESS CRAP: Thanks to J.C. Penny's, the Men's Wearhouse, and Payless Shoesource for providing some of the characters' wardrobes. Thanks also to all the cereals and musicians mentioned. You are real stores and products and people, and I'm giving you free advertising, so don't fine me.  
  
RATING: I'll go with PG-13. There's cursing, lewd behavior, bawdy jokes, some violence, a teeny bit of bloodshed, and general nuttiness. Something for everybody. :D  
  
On we go.  
  
*** *** *** *** ***  
  
THRILL SWITCH  
  
*** *** *** *** ***  
  
Chapter One: "The E-mail From Hell."  
  
It all started with a memo.  
  
Doggett arrived at the basement office a few minutes after Mulder did on Thursday morning, at the lovely hour of 7:15 a.m. Mulder was sitting at his computer in the newly-widened X-files office. Since the project now had four agents, they had destroyed the wall separating the old office from a storage room next door and cleaned everything out, to make room for four desks. Mulder was at his station, watching the PC boot up and slurping his coffee, his eyes hardly open. Doggett was barely awake too, but they managed to wave amicably at each other.  
  
Doggett crossed the room, sat down with a grunt, and turned his computer on, too. He looked over at Mulder.  
  
"Mornin'," Doggett said.  
  
"Hi," was the reply. "Hey, can I ask you something?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Okay. Don't take this the wrong way, but getting to the office at the crack of dawn is *my* job. What are *you* doing here?"  
  
"'As a good question," he said, yawning. "I have paperwork to finish for Monica. We just finished a case, got a report due in two hours, and she's beat. She'll be in at nine."  
  
Mulder smirked at Doggett and shook his head. "Oh, you poor bastard. You're really in trouble now. First she'll get you to do her paperwork, then pretty soon she'll have you vacuuming her floor and making her tea. Whpsssh!" he finished, and cracked an imaginary whip at Doggett.  
  
"Oh, you mean, like, what Agent Scully has you doing the minute you get home?"  
  
Mulder glared at him. Doggett smirked, took a long sip of coffee, put down the cup, and looked at the disheveled man across from him with his flinty blue eyes for a long moment. Then he made up his mind.  
  
"I'm not whipped, Mulder. And you know what else? I won't do the damn paperwork. I don't feel like it. Instead . . ." He clicked the mouse a few times. "I'm going to check my e-mail."  
  
"Go, girl," Mulder replied, deadpan, and took a sip of his own brew.  
  
Uninterested in his own work and ignoring the Yahtzee game he'd minimized, he watched Doggett's face as the other man checked his messages, giving the screen a blank, bored stare for a few minutes, until his brow creased and he clicked the mouse. Then his expression gradually changed from interested to confused to pale and shocked. He turned to Mulder.  
  
"Hey, Mulder? Check your e-mail."  
  
"What for?"  
  
"Just do it."  
  
Mulder did. And he saw the memo.  
  
"To all employees of the Federal Bureau of Investigation working at H.Q. in Wash. D.C.: Mandatory Sensitivity Training, effective building-wide for the entire work day tomorrow. Those who do not comply with these instructions will not be allowed in to work," he read aloud.  
  
He read the rest of it silently, his mellow, sleepy eyes widening and the blood draining from his face until he looked just as bad as Doggett. Then, in typical Mulder fashion, he started to rant.  
  
"Role Reversal Day? Dress up like women? 'Switch jobs with the woman closest to you.' What the heck does that mean? Man, Scully and Reyes are gonna go nuts over this." He snorted. "They'll probably order us around all day or slap our asses or something. 'It'll make us better people.' Bull, Shit. The only thing that seems to make me a better person is coffee in the morning."  
  
"No kidding," Doggett said. "Drink some. Quick."  
  
Mulder gulped some more down. "What do you want to bet that this is just some bad joke that someone's playing on our division?"  
  
"And what if it isn't, Agent Paranoid? Then what?"  
  
He sighed. "Well, if this is real, you know what the worst part is?"  
  
Doggett looked up at him, lost for words, and shook his head. Mulder threw his hands up in disgust.  
  
"I have nothing to wear!"  
  
***  
  
It turned out that everyone, not just the X-files division, had gotten the memo. There had been shrieks, gasps, and a few panic attacks, but by 3, everyone had settled down. Sort of. Because the fact was, this needed to happen.  
  
There was a strong tradition in the Federal Bureau of Investigation that it was comprised of strong officers. Being a modern agency, the employees were supposed to be not so much "men" or "women," but simply people. This was a nice idea. It was also a bit of wishful thinking, because, as in any male-oriented profession, there were those in the bureau who considered women to be "intruders" of sorts --- a necessary evil.  
  
Sexual harassment suits in the private sector and even a few in the federal field had clamped down on most of the ass-slapping and "hey honey"ing of the past few decades, and granted, women were making advances (at least three of the A.D.'s in the Hoover building were female). But a lot of the secretaries still complained that they were getting "the look" from their bosses and the men still yakked about "measurements" in the bathroom or around the water cooler.  
  
Women (particularly female agents) were not encouraged to be feminine. Female "emotions" were signs of weakness. Whether a woman had just been through a bad day or had her period or had spilled coffee on herself on the way to work was irrelevant. She had to conduct herself like she was unbreakable.  
  
Men too, had their own burdens to bear --- there was a certain "tough guy" image associated with the Bureau, and whether a man was a lab tech or a full agent or a security guard, there were expectations. That he could control his emotions. That he could control his life. And women were a part of his life.  
  
So needless to say, there was a lot of tension between the men and women of the Hoover building. The men, on reading the memo, were creeped out. The women, particularly the much-abused secretaries, were delighted. Tomorrow would be a day of vengeance. An uprising.  
  
***  
  
The women of the X-files had seen the memo that morning. Scully and Reyes were not very interested in participating, and kept hoping that there would be some cases that they would all have to leave on, preventing them from reporting to the Hoover building the next day.  
  
No such luck.  
  
There were no calls and they were all drowning in paperwork, anyway. Except for Mulder. He was playing Yahtzee on his computer. He'd been goofing off all morning, and by one o'clock, Scully was annoyed. She picked up some paper, crumpled it into a ball and threw it at his head. Direct hit. She wasn't a Navy brat for nothing.  
  
"Ow!" he said, and glared at her. "What?"  
  
"Bad boy. Do your work."  
  
Reyes, at her own station, was snickering. She'd just received an amusing e-mail from Doggett, who was sitting across from her. The letter and the irony of not just passing a note struck her as funny, but Mulder assumed she was laughing at him. Not that he wasn't pleased to find that Scully had a friend and confidante in Reyes, but it was a bit much. He had to leave.  
  
He stood up and made an excuse, quickly. "Scully, can you finish the paperwork? I have to go talk to Skinner real quick."  
  
"Why do *I* always get stuck with the paperwork?" she argued. "I'm not doing your homework for you."  
  
"Yes you will," he said.  
  
"I am not, you big bully. Forget it." She crossed her arms.  
  
Mulder found this adorable and couldn't resist her. "Aw, come on. Please?" he asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her.  
  
"No."  
  
"Pretty please? With sugar on top?"  
  
Scully sighed, but shook her head again.  
  
"I'll buy you lunch," he offered.  
  
"From?"  
  
"The restaurant of your choice."  
  
"Deal."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He was tempted to plant one on her forehead, but settled for a gentle squeeze and slipped out, leaving Scully sitting at her station, still a bit depressed. Doggett and Reyes, who'd just watched the scene, were looking at her, slightly amused. She looked at them both.  
  
"His ass is *so* mine tomorrow."  
  
The other two started laughing and got back to work.  
  
***  
  
Skinner was being extra nice to Holly today. He'd let her have an hour for lunch, actually given her a few choice smiles, and since she had the reflexes of a sparrow, he tried not to startle her.  
  
Kim, his usual secretary, had been transferred to another department a few months ago. Holly had replaced her. It was quite a step up for the little thing, being the secretary to an A.D. Petite, with wavy hair, a round face, and wide eyes, she was always sweet and sensitive to other people's needs. She'd made the perfect phone operator, until she'd put in the request for a secretarial job and gotten it.  
  
Skinner had drawn her name and groaned, remembering how she'd accidentally beaten the crap out of him during the Pusher case. Of course, his bruises were long gone. But he felt terrible about the way she'd shoveled the guilt on herself, even going to the extent of showing up at his penthouse after work that day with a "care package" of a hot sandwich, iced tea, some Advil, and a quilt. And she'd always been shy around him after that.  
  
She really was a nice kid, though, and he liked her a lot. She was neat, organized and dependable, and unconsciously scored points with him by "moonlighting" for the X-files division, regularly sneaking extra supplies and donuts to the agents in the basement. Between Mulder's pencil-flinging habits, Scully's talent for losing pens, Reyes' knack for misplacing post- it notes, and Doggett's fixation with powdered sugar, she kept very busy. Skinner knew she was just being kind to the four people he'd grown to love and looked the other way on the finance reports.  
  
He was usually nice to her, he felt. Today, though, he was being extra nice simply to save his ass from retaliation tomorrow. (There were rumors of a "shit list" circulating among the secretaries [and some of the female agents] as to who was going to get nailed.) And the part of the memo about cross-dressing sort of bugged him, because his wife, Sharon, was out of town and he had no way of getting his hands on some women's clothes --- that fit. But what really scared him was the part about switching positions with the woman closest to him. Namely, the woman who kept pesky people out of his office and took calls while he ran the show.  
  
How on earth was Holly, of all people, going to do anything properly as an A.D.? He'd never even heard her raise her voice, something he did all the time. Loud noises freaked her out, for heavens' sake. He couldn't even imagine what she would do up against powerful people yelling in her ear through the phone. This was going to be a nightmare for her. He didn't know what to do, except offer his assistance if she was confused as to the Bureau's position on something, and pray she didn't do too much damage.  
  
In the meantime, he decided to handle the other problem. Attire. He buzzed Holly on the intercom.  
  
"Yes, sir?" came her friendly, quiet voice on the other end.  
  
"Holly, can you please send Agents Scully and Reyes up to see me?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Right away."  
  
***  
  
Scully and Reyes arrived a few minutes later. Skinner ushered them in, and they closed the door behind them. There was a long silence as the A.D. tried to figure out what to say.  
  
"Agents . . . I need some help," he began.  
  
"Of course you can come with us," Reyes interrupted, and smiled.  
  
Skinner blinked at her.  
  
"We're taking Mulder and Agent Doggett to Penny's after work," Scully explained. "We'll be happy to get you set up in something tasteful, sir. After all you've done for us, it would hardly do to have you laughed out of the building."  
  
They both smiled pleasantly at him, and he nodded, slightly amazed that they'd read his mind.  
  
"It was that obvious?" he asked, embarrassed.  
  
Scully and Reyes looked at him, nodded solemnly, then stood up.  
  
"Meet us at the front entrance to the Georgetown Plaza at 5:30, okay?" Scully asked.  
  
Skinner nodded. The two ladies showed themselves out and closed the door behind them. On their way out, they noticed Holly, sitting forlornly at her desk, typing.  
  
"Hey, Holly, what's wrong?" Reyes asked.  
  
"Oh, nothing. I just don't know what I'm going to do for tomorrow is all," Holly said. "I don't have a suit."  
  
"Wait a minute," Scully said. "What about your boyfriend? Doesn't he have a suit you can borrow?"  
  
Holly flushed scarlet and looked down. Most of her friends, including Scully and Reyes, knew she'd been going steady with someone for a long time. They just didn't know who it was, and loved to tease her about it.  
  
"He doesn't wear suits," Holly said.  
  
"Ah ha! A clue!" Reyes exclaimed, her eyes twinkling. "No suit, huh? Well, it has to be someone in the building, since you're keeping it a secret. And he likes to go casual. Either that, or he wears a uniform. Hmm. Don't worry, honey. We'll figure out who he is sooner or later."  
  
Holly giggled softly.  
  
"I'm sure you can get one off a male friend," Scully said, giving her a gentle smile and a wink. "But we'll bring a back-up for you in case it doesn't work. C'mon, Monica. Let's get out of here."  
  
***  
  
"RHONDA!"  
  
Rhonda Macintyre, Deputy Director Kersh's secretary, had up to that moment been sitting with her feet propped up on her desk, reading and listening to a walkman. She jumped in fright, dropping her magazine and almost swallowing her bubble gum.  
  
"S-S-Sir?" she gasped, and blinked at Kersh, who was standing in the doorway, none too pleased with her.  
  
"Take your headphones off," he growled.  
  
She slipped off her walkman and gave him an embarrassed grin. Rhonda had big green eyes and red curly hair and no interest in getting yelled at, so she decided to head it off with humor.  
  
"Wouldja believe I was listening to 'Ten Ways to Be More Attentive to Your Work?'" she asked, and smiled again. She batted her eyes in a perfectly adorable manner and he rolled his, but seemed to cool off a bit.  
  
He huffed out a sigh, cricked his neck, and asked calmly, "Where are the files on the Anderson case?"  
  
"Oh, they're right here, sir," she said, and fished them out of the desk. "There you go."  
  
"Thank you. Oh, and Rhonda?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"I understand there's going to be some kind of role playing game tomorrow. Let me just say now, that you are my *temporary* secretary. Since you don't have civil servant status, you can be fired. And you're not getting high marks from me right now."  
  
"Sorry, sir."  
  
"Sorry nothing! I'm warning you. If you screw anything up tomorrow . . . God help you."  
  
With an ugly look, he walked back into his office with the file and slammed the door. Rhonda cringed, then crossed her arms and pouted at her desk.  
  
"Bastard," she muttered.  
  
***  
  
Most of the women in the Hoover Building had gone out in packs after work, hunting down suits in thrift stores or explaining rental requests to the people at Men's Wearhouse and praying the employees didn't ask too many embarrassing questions.  
  
Scully and Reyes, on the other hand, only had to purchase shoes, because the men in their lives had gallantly offered them their suits. Doggett was only a little taller and broader than Reyes, and Mulder wouldn't have Scully walking into work in anything less than one of his Armanis.  
  
But the guys needed clothes.  
  
So, the entire X-files division met Skinner at the entrance to the Georgetown Plaza at 5:30 and they all went off together. The shoes took the women each a few minutes --- black flats for each. They each bought some super hold gel for slicking their hair back, and then they spent a hellish hour dragging three grumpy men through J.C. Penny's.  
  
Mulder hated department stores on principle, but the purpose of this trip was what really irked him. He was bored, humiliated, and had lost count of how many skirts and jackets were in his hands. He could barely see Doggett and Skinner under the mounds of frilly-looking stuff the other guys were carrying, and then they were all roughly shoved into dressing rooms and told to try things on.  
  
They began, grunting and grumbling, and tried to get into the first outfits. There seemed to be a small cloth tornado happening in the middle stall, where Doggett was.  
  
Finally he yelled, "Goddammit, if I can't figure out how to put it on, then the hell with it!"  
  
He flung a hideous-looking reddish dress thing, or whatever it was, out of the stall, and it landed on Reyes, who was waiting outside. Scully started laughing.  
  
The three men had gotten a lot of funny looks on the way to the changing rooms, and suspected it would get worse when they came out for inspection.  
  
They were not disappointed. After a few rounds of them coming out, a small crowd started gathering. Pretty soon there were makeshift scorecards going up, and loud wolf whistles, and the women had to chase the rabble-rousers away.  
  
The memo's instructions were that everyone at the Bureau was supposed to mimic the opposite sex to the best of their ability --- clothing, make-up (if possible), and proper footwear. The guys were basically clueless about "lady things," as Doggett had put it, and Scully and Reyes mercifully kept them as ignorant as possible through the whole process.  
  
How do you break the news to a man that he has to shave his legs, anyway?  
  
And shoes were going to be hell. After the women were satisfied with the way the men were dressed, from blouses to pantyhose, the guys paid for their outfits. Mulder and Skinner refused to look the cashier in the eye and Doggett looked like a fire hydrant, he was so red. They all piled into Reyes' SUV. The women knew they would have to get creative, considering there was little chance of finding heels for the men at Payless.  
  
"So what now?" Reyes asked Scully, who was riding shotgun.  
  
"Jerry's," she said.  
  
The three guys, smashed together in the back seat with their purchases, shot worried looks at each other.  
  
"Who's Jerry?" Doggett piped up.  
  
"He runs a specialty store near Georgetown," Scully said. "For, um, men who'd like a 'new look.'"  
  
"Oh no," Mulder said, burying his face in his Penny's bag. "I went into this place with Scully once. She thought the enterprise was so hilarious that she ended up buying me some earrings."  
  
"What's so hilarious about it?" Skinner demanded.  
  
"Well, 'Jerry,' as he calls himself, is a physically a woman," Mulder answered. "All of his employees are transvestites. All of his *clientele* are transvestites and drag queens. The place is just drowning in sequins. But Scully knows Jerry, and she's got good taste. And hey --- at least they'll have our shoe size in heels," he finished miserably.  
  
They stopped at a light.  
  
"Wow," Doggett said, and panicked, loud enough for Reyes to hear. "You know, I'm feeling hot. I-I think I have a fever. And my back hurts. I uh, I think it's the flu. I really shouldn't go to work tomorrow, I could seriously infect ---"  
  
Reyes turned to the back seat and growled, "John, shut up."  
  
He did and hung his head like a scolded puppy. Skinner snickered. Mulder picked that moment to make the "whpsssh!" noise again, and Doggett shoved him, knocking him into the window. They drove on.  
  
***  
  
Jerry's House of Glamour was indeed drowning in sequins, and the three men, looking around while Scully and Reyes went to find Jerry, got curious and met some of the regular clients. It turned out that they were just as curious about the drag queens as the drag queens were about them. When they explained the situation, one queen named Crystal told them in a deep voice that she thought it was a wonderful idea, the FBI promoting tolerance for cross-dressers like that. It took a little more explaining to set her straight, but she still approved of the idea of promoting fairness and sensitivity among the men and women of the bureau.  
  
Scully and Reyes called them to the back, and they met Jerry, who, with his butch haircut and doe eyes, made a very striking man. He was polite, friendly, never strayed from his chest voice, and had them all try on heels for about twenty minutes. Doggett ended up in a pair of beige pumps with a wedge heel, Mulder got a pair of navy blue Mary Janes, also wedge heels, and Skinner got tasteful black heels (open-toe).  
  
It was 7 o'clock when they all arrived back at the parking garage. Scully, ever-practical, told Skinner to drop one of his suits off at her place so she could take it with her the next day, in case Holly hadn't found one. He assured her he would. Reyes was happily preparing to "wear the pants," (i.e. gently teasing all the guys she knew and really sticking it to Brad Follmer), while Doggett, Mulder, and Skinner looked as though they were being led to the gallows. Everyone went their separate ways --- the women chipper, the men miserable.  
  
Tomorrow was going to be insane.  
  
***  
  
Would you like some more? 


	2. You Sexy Thing

Author's Note: Okay. Based on the phenomenal, stupendous, numerous, overwhelming, brilliant, thrilling, splendiferous reviews I got from all of you awesome reader people, I'm publishing more. Without further ado, here's Chapter Two! :D  
  
***  
  
Chapter Two: "You Sexy Thing."  
  
On Friday morning, everything was set before the first Bureau employee arrived. The restrooms were clean and prepared. The cafeteria was well- stocked with food. The "Rules" posters, which listed behavioral regulations for today's exercise, were up on the walls. The offices, in general, were tidy.  
  
First, most of the usual secretaries arrived, pouring into the main entrance in a throng. Most of them were praying to clear security without too many stupid comments. All women, they were dressed in suits, some hideously ugly and others quite elegant, borrowed off of boyfriends or cousins, or bought last minute in a thrift store. Holly had been unable to find one. She was wearing jeans, hiking boots, and a man's cable-knit sweater, which was too big for her and inappropriate for the office, anyway. She was walking next to Rhonda. The two had been friends for years.  
  
"What am I going to do?" she despaired, her little voice quiet and forlorn. "I'm supposed to be an A.D. today! You know, really formal and everything! Oh, this is terrible."  
  
"Don't worry, honey," said Rhonda. "Agent Scully said she'd get you one, right? She's got good taste. And whatever she brings you, you can't possibly look worse than me!"  
  
They both started to laugh, because Rhonda was right. She had arrived in a banana-yellow monstrosity of a suit, complete with an emerald green shirt and black-and-white polka dot necktie. The whole ensemble clashed horribly with her curly red hair. It looked as though she had been dressed by The Mask.  
  
Still chuckling, they both made it through security.  
  
***  
  
Most of the female agents arrived a few minutes later. Scully was annoyed at not being able to use the back entrance, like she always did. (It was locked.) Coming in the front meant having to walk nearly half a block from the parking garage to the main entrance of Headquarters, dressed as a man. So far today, she didn't feel she was pulling it off very well.  
  
Her fiery red hair, which normally fell in single graceful line on either side of her face, had been mercilessly slicked back. It gave her a spare, lean, boyish appearance. She thought it made her look ugly. Mulder had assured her that morning that it didn't, but she wasn't enthusiastic. She was also not sure about walking in with no make up --- she felt slightly naked without it. It was Mulder's suit, though, that was giving her a problem.  
  
Not that she wasn't comfortable in Mulder's clothing --- hell, she'd woken up after spending the night with him and put on his shirt too many times to count. But the whole damn suit? She felt ridiculous. The white shirt was the only thing that even remotely fit her. The pant legs of his gray Armani had been cuffed up about four times, so she wouldn't trip on them. The jacket sleeves covered her hands completely. She'd pulled the belt as tight as it would go to keep the pants up on her hips. And, as the final touch, Mulder had insisted she wear his "special tie" --- the burgundy one with the little emerald UFO's all over it. She was also weighed down with his briefcase in one hand and one of Skinner's suits in the other, for Holly.  
  
Fortunately, she didn't have to walk to the door alone. Reyes was with her. She'd also slicked back her dark brown hair, and even tucked the ends into the jacket of Doggett's dark suit. While not Armani, it was a much better fit and she wore her usual smile, in sharp contrast to Scully's bitter, pursed lips and flinty eyes. She also wore no make up and carried her partner's briefcase.  
  
"Well good morning, Agents!" said Tanya, one of the security guards. She was waaay too perky, even for Reyes, who raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You guys don't have to dress up?"  
  
"One of the perks of a uniform."  
  
"I'd say it's the *only* perk of a uniform," Scully muttered under her breath.  
  
"Weapons check please," Tanya said, turning serious.  
  
Both ladies reached for their holsters, usually at their backs, muttered curses, and then reached for the sides --- they'd forgotten that they'd switched holsters with their partners, on top of everything else. Scully, in her struggle to reach Mulder's weapon, dropped the briefcase, and the suit, and swore. Loudly.  
  
Reyes giggled. Scully mimicked her, making her stop and blink, and grumpily handed Mulder's weapon to Tanya.  
  
"Here."  
  
She stepped through the metal detector and set it off.  
  
"God! What now?!"  
  
"I don't know. Let's find out," said the guard.  
  
She waved the wand over Scully. It made a loud beeping noise near her left foot. She sighed, thoroughly annoyed. Damn ankle holster. She didn't carry one, but of course, Mulder did, and of course, it just had to hold her up in the middle of the hall, where everyone could see that not only was she dressed like an idiot, but that she had privileged access to Fox Mulder's clothing. And by extension, his bedroom. The water coolers would be buzzing today, she just knew it.  
  
She huffed out a breath, knelt, unlatched the smaller weapon and handed it to Tanya, who waved the wand over her again and cleared her. She was arming herself again and Reyes was walking through the detector when the doors burst open. Several more secretaries and female agents, all in suits, ran in screaming excitedly.  
  
The men were arriving.  
  
And lots of ladies were coming in, full-force, to see the show. Scully and Reyes decided to skip the sight and ran off to the elevators, so they could get Skinner's suit to Holly.  
  
***  
  
The guys, also unable to use the back entrance, had come up with a plan. Many of them had arrived and parked at the same time. They decided to crowd together and make a run for the main entrance, so that no one on the street would know what they were looking at. So, a throng of about forty men, all in dresses and prim shoes and carrying purses borrowed off of girlfriends or whatever, had clumped together near the entrance to the parking garage, ready to trot. Nobody was laughing at anybody else, even though there was ample opportunity.  
  
It was clear that some of the guys had tried to squeeze into the garb of small female friends and were failing miserably. Bellies hung out over skirts. Lots of revealed legs were unshaven, with really dark hair. Some men were wearing granny outfits. One was in a gingham dress, boots, and a suit jacket. Agent Bickerstaff, a burly guy in Accounting with a beer belly, had arrived in a summer jacket, hose, strappy sandals, and (horrors!) a tube dress. He looked like a sausage covered in flowers.  
  
Mulder and Doggett took a strange sort of pride in being the cleanest and best-dressed guys in the group.  
  
Mulder was wearing a tasteful skirt and jacket combination, navy blue, with a white blouse and clip-on pearl earrings --- the ones Scully had bought him from Jerry's. He carried a navy handbag and Scully's briefcase. The fitted skirt just hit his knees and revealed his muscular legs. Shaved clean by Scully the night before, they glimmered in his white hose and his calves were beefed up from the "tiptoe" position of his feet in his navy heels. He was fidgeting, waiting for the signal to run.  
  
Doggett had set down his beige handbag and Reyes' briefcase. He was looking at his watch, quite impatient to get this over with. He wore a light yellow skirt with small pink and brown flowers on it that flowed nicely when he walked, and hit his shaved legs (in tan pantyhose) at mid- knee. He wore a white blouse, and a beige silk suit jacket to match his beige heels. He was also flushing a little. This looked worse than it really was, given that Reyes had stopped by that morning, and somehow convinced him to let her apply a little blush and lipstick.  
  
Bickerstaff gave the signal.  
  
They ran for their lives, out of the parking garage and down the street, in a flock of odd patterns and colors, clomping feet and wheezing lungs. Skidding to a halt and trying not to topple over, they all crowded through the door and were immediately greeted by whoops and cheers from the female agents and secretaries, who had gathered to watch the grand entrance.  
  
The pack of men was embarrassed beyond belief. Mulder was staring around, swearing under his breath, looking for a way out. The women were beginning to crowd the guys to try and heckle everybody. Doggett skittered like a deer and tried to hide in the middle of the pack, but Mulder dragged him out.  
  
"It won't do any good," he hissed at him. "Come on. Let's get down to the office."  
  
"Right," Doggett finally said, resigned, and they walked away together from the pack.  
  
The women began to catcall.  
  
"Just walk tall and ignore them. Show them we might be in heels, but we're still men, we're still human beings, and we still have our pride."  
  
Doggett was in agreement. "Yeah!"  
  
He was wobbling a little, though, and it wasn't the heels.  
  
"Are you all right?" Mulder asked.  
  
"Not really. I'm kinda dizzy. I didn't eat breakfast."  
  
"What? Why the hell not?"  
  
They both stopped in the hall, near the elevators. A receptionist walked by and yelled "Whoooo!!!"  
  
"Have you seen this outfit?" Doggett asked, annoyed. "I was scared that if I ate, I wouldn't be able to fit into it!"  
  
Mulder stared at Doggett for a long moment. Then he slapped him in the face. Doggett shook it off.  
  
"Thank you," he said.  
  
"You're welcome," Mulder replied. "Let's go."  
  
He nodded. They kept walking toward the elevators and Mulder pressed "DOWN."  
  
"Hey --- tell me the truth. Does this skirt make me look fat?"  
  
"Don't make me hit you again."  
  
***  
  
The last Suit had fled by the time Skinner and Kersh ran through the doors and stopped to brush themselves off. Skinner had quite sensibly put on a gray trench coat and a red head scarf, and was now removing both. He looked about as dignified as possible in a black skirt and jacket combo with gray pin-stripes and a white blouse. The one touch of color in his clothing was the red ribbon under his lace collar, tied in a small bow. He squared himself and wobbled toward the security check-point on his heels.  
  
Kersh followed him, in white flats, whatever he was wearing covered up by a black raincoat. He and Skinner scowled at each other grimly.  
  
They both headed for the elevators with a minimum of comments from the surrounding women. The door dinged and they got in. Skinner pressed four and Kersh hit five. Skinner got out on the fourth floor, and turned back to Kersh for a moment.  
  
"Have a nice day," he said darkly.  
  
The doors closed. Kersh, finally alone, gulped.  
  
***  
  
The men of the X-files got their first surprise of the day when they reached the basement --- pantyhose liked to climb. Straight into butt cracks. Both men were to make a habit all day of reaching for their asses to get the offending material out of them. They grabbed and yanked and muttered, in sync, as they walked down the hall to their office.  
  
Scully's annoyance had abated. She and Reyes knew the men were going to have an awful time of it today. Consequently, they were waiting for them with tiny smiles and subtle signs of affection. They had made their delivery to Holly quickly and had gotten down to the office just before the guys.  
  
Mulder and Doggett knew that their partners were probably the only two Suits in the building who wouldn't gape or gawk, and felt ridiculously grateful for it. Scully and Reyes weren't laughing. The F.B.I.'s most paranoid office would be the beacon of sanity and support today.  
  
"Hi," Doggett said to them. "Suit looks good, Monica."  
  
"Thanks, John. Dana, c'mon. Tell him."  
  
Scully smiled. "The make-up looks nice. Monica did a good job on you. It's --- it's subtle. I like it."  
  
Doggett smiled a little at this encouragement. He walked over to Monica, leaving Mulder and Scully some space. Mulder took his partner's arm and started to cuff up one of her sleeves.  
  
"And Scully," Mulder said, "I know you're not real happy about the fit of the suit, but . . . the color sets off your eyes."  
  
Scully blinked at him in shock. "Really."  
  
"Mm hm. That's why I thought you'd like it," he said, cuffing her other sleeve.  
  
She smiled softly. "Today, Mulder, I wouldn't wear anything else. And you. Look. Gorgeous."  
  
"Thank you," he replied, slightly amused and a bit pleased.  
  
She nodded. Doggett and Mulder set their stuff down at Scully and Reyes' work stations, given that theirs were already taken up with their partners' things. There was an odd noise in the room, a sort of loud rumbling, and everyone stared at Doggett. He flushed in embarrassment and patted his protesting stomach.  
  
"I'm --- I'ma get something to eat from the cafeteria. Anybody want anything?"  
  
The women weren't hungry, but Mulder said he could use a scone, so he and Doggett trotted back towards the elevator. They exited on the ground floor and headed for the large cafeteria which served the Hoover building.  
  
***  
  
Surprise number two.  
  
The cafeteria was its usual self --- a drab, gray place staffed by fat old ladies in hair nets. Only now, it had people in it. Most agents usually brown-bagged it or went out to lunch, rather than eat here. But because no one was interested in showing their faces in public today, the staff had been gearing up for a busy time. About half the tables were full of cross- dressed, cross-looking agents, but there was still plenty of room. Mulder and Doggett grabbed trays and got in the breakfast line.  
  
Soon, they reached Irma. She was a regular with the cafeteria, as fat and old as any of the ladies here. The most fascinating things about Irma were her thick mustache and giant chin mole.  
  
"Agents," she said politely.  
  
"Hi," Doggett said, forgetting the whole "starving thing" completely. He was looking at the food. "Uh, lessee. Lemme have some grits, two eggs, two pieces of French toast, and a cup of coffee, please."  
  
Irma just smiled, but did nothing. Doggett looked left and right, trying to determine what she found so funny. He couldn't find it, and looked at her, hard.  
  
"Could I get some food? Now?"  
  
She chuckled. "Of course you can, honey. But you're a woman today. And that means your choices are limited."  
  
"Excuse me?" he asked. Mulder was looking baffled, too.  
  
"Well," Irma explained, "We did a survey last year to see what kinds of breakfast foods were popular among the men and women of headquarters. The foods that won the women's vote are the choices the men get for breakfast today, and vice versa."  
  
Doggett was starting to get annoyed. Breakfast without grits just wasn't breakfast, and he had a feeling there wouldn't be any grits for him this morning.  
  
"All right. What are my choices?"  
  
"You may have cereal, or you may have a muffin and coffee."  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"What if I order both?"  
  
"You can't."  
  
Both Mulder and Doggett were a little aghast at this.  
  
"Okay," Doggett said finally. "What kinds of cereal are there?"  
  
"Shredded Wheat, Total, Corn Flakes, Raisin Bran, or Low Fat Granola."  
  
Ugh. Fiber, fiber, and more fiber. Doggett began to wonder if this was why women took so long in the bathroom.  
  
"Uh . . . I think I'll go with the granola."  
  
Irma smiled. She reached around, got him a bowl, which looked pathetically small, heaped in the granola and poured in the milk. He dug around in Reyes' handbag and found his wallet. As he counted out the bills and paid her, she put the cereal on his tray. Mulder, unnoticed during the transaction, swiped two scones from the counter and held them behind his back. When she asked him what he wanted, he replied he was just tagging along.  
  
The two of them made a beeline for a back table and sat down. Mulder magically produced a scone and handed it to Doggett.  
  
"You stole a scone?" he hissed at the thief.  
  
"Two, actually," the other man said, waggling his eyebrows, and held up his own.  
  
Doggett started to snicker. "I can't believe you've been reduced to this. Stealing cafeteria food."  
  
"Hey. Man's gotta eat. Now shut up and dig in."  
  
They did. Mulder wolfed down his scone and licked his fingers. Doggett ate the granola, and found it to be okay. He turned to his scone, and when he was done, he patted his stomach with a sigh.  
  
"Well, Doggette?" Mulder asked.  
  
"Well, it isn't grits, but it'll do. Thanks for stealing that scone."  
  
"No sweat."  
  
"So. What now?"  
  
"Now, we walk down the hall again."  
  
"And get heckled? No thanks."  
  
Mulder snickered. "Come on."  
  
Doggett put his tray away and they both got up to leave. And suddenly it dawned on him. Mulder hadn't come along to crack jokes or steal a couple of scones. He'd come along as back-up. Voluntarily. Doggett didn't know the proper way to thank anyone, let alone another man, for just being there. So he kept his gratitude to himself.  
  
***  
  
"Hey, sweet cheeks!"  
  
"Yeah! Sex Files to the rescue! Awwwhooo!"  
  
"You doing anything tonight, beautiful? 'Cuz I'm open!"  
  
"Come on, Space Cadets! Let me take you to the moon!"  
  
The hecklers, all women in suits, were yelling this nonsense and laughing as Doggett and Mulder passed by, their stern faces set in a neutral expression, pointedly ignoring the catcalls and insults. Scully and Reyes had both said they looked nice. And they were going back to the office. That was all that mattered.  
  
They made it to the elevator and it dinged. They stepped in, none too pleased to discover it was full of women in suits, one of whom flashed a vicious grin at the two of them. She looked remarkably like a barracuda. The door closed and Mulder gulped.  
  
The Carnivorous Fish Woman made a tiger growling noise and traced a finger down Mulder's leg. Somebody else pinched Doggett's ass and he yelped and whirled around.  
  
"Hey! Get your hands off of him! And me! I catch your hand, I'll break your fingers. Now behave. All of you."  
  
That shut them up. The elevator was going up, not down, so they had to wait while people got out on the third and fourth floors before going back down to the basement, alone. They were both disgusted.  
  
"Pinchin' my ass. Of all the nerve!" Doggett grumbled. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."  
  
They were both rattled, and trying not to show it.  
  
"For the record, I don't do that shit to women. My mamma raised me better than that."  
  
"Mine too. But those, *things,* in the elevator, must think all guys act that way. It's pretty scary how much we've been generalized, when you think about it."  
  
"Mm."  
  
"I wonder how Skinner's doing?"  
  
***  
  
How IS Skinner doing? Find out in Chapter Three! Coming soon! 


	3. The Cow Says Muumuu

Author's Note: I just checked the site today, Monday, and almost had a heart attack. I've never gotten that many reviews for anything in my entire life. Thanks from the bottom of my heart, everybody. Keep it up. I am nowhere *near* finished yet. There's just too much fun left to be had. :D Here's more!  
  
Chapter Three: "The Cow Says Muumuu."  
  
Skinner had actually been coping pretty well since he'd arrived that morning. Most of the Suits he'd met as he walked down the halls hadn't said a word, given his position of A.D. It also helped that while he didn't put up with any bullshit, he didn't give any, either. There was near-silence as he clopped down the halls in his heels towards his office, dressed very well in his tasteful outfit. A few people who remembered their manners nodded their heads politely. Then, of course, as soon as he was out of range, the whispering started.  
  
"How the hell did he get his hands on that outfit?"  
  
"He actually looks GOOD. Who helped him?"  
  
"His wife?"  
  
"Nah. She's out of town. Kimberly?"  
  
"Please. She can barely stand him."  
  
"Then who?"  
  
"Who cares? I wanna see that tight butt of his again!" came the last voice, a bit too loudly.  
  
Skinner turned around and glared at the pack of Suits in the hallway. He'd heard that. He was a proud ex-Marine, a man with a good job who was serving his country well, and for the second time, at that. He had his pride. But telling them to shove it, at least today, was out of the question. So, he gave them what they wanted. He turned around and walked away, letting his hips sway as much as he could without falling over.  
  
The pack set up a cheer, and he felt ridiculously pleased at that. He had power. He had good looks. And now, he had a nice ass --- something else to put on his resume. This was going to be interesting.  
  
He approached his office and, out of habit, opened the inner door. Everything seemed normal, except for his desk chair, which had its back to him. Skinner eyed it suspiciously, and then cleared his throat. There was a rustling. The chair turned around to reveal Holly.  
  
"Walter! You look great!" she said pleasantly.  
  
Skinner opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound came out. *Walter?* Nobody called him by his first name. Well, maybe Scully, once, but she was sort of high on adrenaline because Mulder had been drowning in the Bermuda Triangle at the time. Finally the gears in his head creaked and he formed a word.  
  
"Th-Thanks."  
  
Holly smiled gently and stood up, tugging at her pants. Skinner was embarrassed. His suit was enormous on her. The neck of the shirt and its tie were very loose, her hands were buried in the sleeves, and she was ready to trip on the pant legs.  
  
"Ready to get to work?" she asked cheerfully.  
  
"Uh, sure," he said, as they both walked out into the 'outer hull,' where Holly's desk was.  
  
Skinner set down his stuff and Holly turned on the desk's computer.  
  
"Okay. You're a good boss, so I won't work you too hard today," she said, and winked. "First thing I need you to do is get started sorting and coding these expense reports."  
  
She pointed at a huge pile of paper in one corner of her desk, and Skinner looked mildly alarmed. She saw the fear in his eyes.  
  
"Walter, don't worry. It's easy. I'll show you."  
  
"Excuse me. Before this goes any further, Holly, I would appreciate 'sir' today. Not Walter. It's just a bit strange, to hear that coming from you."  
  
Holly looked down for a moment. "I'm sorry, but rules are rules. All secretaries are to be addressed by their first name. And you, unfortunately, will have to address me as A.D. Baker, or ma'am."  
  
"Rules?" Skinner asked, puzzled. "What rules?"  
  
Holly sighed. She gently led him outside to one of the myriad "Rules" posters all over the place. It was a laundry list of rules and regulations, all governing this one day.  
  
"Number 14. Right there."  
  
He read it in astonishment. She was right, and clearly not very happy about it, but determined to walk the straight and narrow on this one. He shrugged his shoulders and they walked back in.  
  
"Walter it is, then," he said. "What do I do?"  
  
***  
  
The same thing was happening up on the fifth floor, although it was a lot less friendly. The first thing Kersh did when he saw Rhonda, in her hideous suit, sitting in his chair, was start yelling. He was *very* surprised when Rhonda started yelling back. She ordered him into the outer office, to get started typing up some depositions, and on top of that, insisted he remove his raincoat. He complied.  
  
And she saw what he'd come to work in.  
  
She didn't know whether to be appalled or amused. Her face white with shock, she murmured at him to 'get busy' and then retreated into her temporary office, shutting the door behind her. She had to tell somebody about this. However, the conversation from the day before was ringing in her ears.  
  
*You are my temporary secretary.*  
  
*You're not getting high marks from me right now.*  
  
*If you screw anything up tomorrow . . . God help you.*  
  
She stared at the phone on the desk, knitted her eyebrows, and made her decision.  
  
"Oh, the hell with it. If I'm going to get fired, then I'll just go out in a blaze of glory."  
  
She picked up the receiver and dialed. A minute later, a smile blossomed on her face.  
  
"Holly? Rhonda. Big news."  
  
***  
  
The women were stretching in the X-files office. The men were adjusting themselves. They'd all settled in for a morning of paperwork and avoiding the rest of the planet, but so far, mostly there was uncomfortable silence and very little typing. Scully and Reyes were bored stiff with their partners' paperwork. And between the demonic possession stuff and the medical jargon in their partners' files, Doggett and Mulder were totally lost.  
  
"Hey, uh, Scully?" Mulder asked.  
  
"Hm?" she said.  
  
"Could you, by any chance, help me with this paperwork? There are some questions that I just can't answer, because they're asking for your medical opinion and well, I'm not you."  
  
Scully had been buried in her partner's paperwork all morning. She was pissed, the UFO tie was itching her collar, and she was not interested in being lured into doing work for Mulder, who she was now convinced was a total lazy-ass. She swiveled around in his chair and glared at him. Doggett and Reyes were watching, nervously. This was it.  
  
"No. I can't help you," she said finally. "You know why?"  
  
Mulder was looking frightened. "Uh, no."  
  
"Because I *always* have to do the paperwork. Because you're lazy. And I can't understand it, Mulder, because you're so damn conscientious about everything else! So today, YOU will be doing the drudgery. Meanwhile, I," she said, standing up, "I, am going to go up and make an ass out of myself in front of the Deputy Director by trying to convince him of the validity of the Oongaboonga sightings in Rock Creek Park. Have a nice morning."  
  
Mulder attempted to pick his chin up off the floor as she left the office. Doggett got up and clopped after her, catching her by the arm halfway down the hall.  
  
"Agent Scully, you're supposed to take over the other person's position, not their *personality*," he hissed, scolding her.  
  
She smiled slightly at him and patted his face. "Don't ruin my fun, John."  
  
She walked away, and left him standing there. Blinking, he turned back and walked into the office. He understood. She was making Mulder squirm, because she had to. Just once.  
  
He clopped back through the door just in time to bump into Reyes. She excused herself.  
  
"Sorry guys, gotta use the ladies' room. I'll be back in a second."  
  
And she took off, leaving the two men alone together. Doggett smirked at Mulder, then sat down to work again. Mulder glared at him.  
  
"What?!" he finally asked, angry.  
  
"Whpssh!" said Doggett, complete with cracking gesture, and he began to laugh at Mulder's situation.  
  
The sound was kind of wheezy and high-pitched, and Mulder raised an annoyed eyebrow, the way Scully did all the time. He snorted in derision.  
  
"Jeez, man. Now I know why I've never heard you laugh. You sound like a horse with pneumonia."  
  
"Hmph. Says you," Doggett said, calming slightly.  
  
"Damn straight, says me!" Mulder answered, tossing a pencil into the ceiling. "This work blows. I wish we had something interesting to do."  
  
Perhaps it was fate, pulling its invisible strings. Perhaps it was dumb luck. But at that instant, the phone on Doggett's desk rang. He picked up.  
  
"X-files Division. Doggett speaking. . . . Really. . . . Yeah, okay. . . . Uh, yes, ma'am. Mulder and I will be there in a few minutes. . . . Sure thing."  
  
He hung up, turning to Mulder.  
  
"That was Holly, or A.D. Baker, as she's called today. She's got an assignment for us."  
  
"Holly has an assignment for us. Holly is doing Skinner's job? . . . Little Holly?" Mulder asked, measuring a short height above the floor.  
  
"Yep," Doggett said, standing up. "But I wouldn't call her little, if I were you."  
  
"No, I won't. It's just . . . wow. I hope she's up to it," Mulder replied. "Let's go."  
  
***  
  
The elevator dinged on the fourth floor and the two men stepped out. Almost immediately, the yelling and the catcalls started. Mulder put on his warrior face and charged ahead. Doggett stared straight ahead of him and gallantly resisted the urge to flip everybody off. They both scooted into Skinner's outer office and found the man himself seated in Holly's usual spot. The desk was a mess. *Skinner* was a mess. He was working like mad, holding a pencil in his mouth, hunting and pecking on the keyboard. (His typing skills were terrible.) Finally he looked up to see the two agents, who seemed slightly amused.  
  
"What?" he asked around the pencil.  
  
"Sorry sir," Doggett said. "We're here to see the A.D. for a Day."  
  
He took the pencil and began to scribble a number on an expense report, hardly looking up.  
  
"For the next . . ." he glanced at the clock. "Seven hours, eighteen minutes and thirty four seconds . . . it's Walter," he said. "And go right on in. She's expecting you."  
  
Mulder and Doggett looked at each other, shrugged, and walked in.  
  
***  
  
"Close the door, Agents."  
  
Doggett shut it. They walked over to the two chairs across from Skinner's desk, where Holly was organizing some papers.  
  
"Please, sit," she said, gesturing to the chairs, her sleeves flapping.  
  
They both sat. Holly looked down at the desktop immediately, blushing like crazy.  
  
"And for Pete's sake, cross your legs."  
  
They both yelped a bit in surprise and did so, fussing with their clothing, and settled their hands in their laps. Mulder gave her an embarrassed smile. She stood up and made her way around the desk. The two agents, already amused by her clothes, did their damndest not to laugh. She was waddling because everything was so huge on her, and the black and white of the suit made her look remarkably like a penguin. She stopped and leaned back against the desk, crossing her arms.  
  
"I have an assignment for the two of you. I'm afraid it's very dangerous, but quite rewarding."  
  
They were all ears.  
  
"A report just came to me from the Deputy Director's office that Alvin Kersh, a man we all know and detest, has come to work in . . . improper attire."  
  
"Like what, a g-string?" Doggett asked.  
  
"Oh, yech. Thanks for the image," Mulder mumbled.  
  
"No, Agent Doggett," Holly cut in. "Nothing that revealing. Deputy Director Kersch arrived this morning . . . in a muumuu."  
  
The two men looked at each other and smirked. Then they turned back to her.  
  
"A'right, so what do you want us to do?" Doggett asked.  
  
"I would like you two to document it."  
  
"You mean, take a picture?" Mulder suggested.  
  
"Not exactly," Holly said, and waddled back behind the desk.  
  
She came back around with a silvery box, that turned out to be a digital video camera, one of the latest models out on the market. Both men were fascinated by the technology. She handed it to Doggett. "Shiny" seemed to be his only awed comment, and he passed to Mulder, who managed to say, "Sweeeeet." They both looked back at her.  
  
"Your assignment, gentlemen, is to get at least two minutes of usable footage of Alvin Kersh in a muumuu."  
  
Mulder raised his eyebrows, interested. Doggett, who hated Kersh with a passion, let his face curl up into a feral grin.  
  
"Now, I realize that just getting to humiliate the Deputy Director and play with that video camera is fun. But make no mistake --- this is a dangerous assignment. If Kersh catches you before you can escape, he could disband your department, among other things."  
  
The men sobered at this, but continued to listen intently.  
  
"So," she continued, "I'm going to add a little extra incentive. Once the tape is made, several copies will be circulated among the secretaries to boost morale, and another copy will be sent to the X-files office. For your own personal records, of course. And, should you be successful in your endeavor, you two will be allowed to use *this* for the entire evening tonight."  
  
With that, she waddled over to the shelves next to Skinner's desk and pulled out a black box. She blew the dust off it and opened it, revealing to Mulder and Doggett something that was every FBI agent's Holy Grail --- the Bureau credit card.  
  
"Whoa," Mulder said. "May --- May I touch it?"  
  
Holly closed the box. "Not yet. First, I'll need you two to make that tape. And secondly, I need your solemn promise that whatever you do with the credit card tonight, you will take Agents Scully and Reyes along."  
  
"Of course! / You have our word," they said together.  
  
They would never have done otherwise, but it was nice to know that Holly was thinking of the women, too. They stood up, Doggett holding the video camera as if it was made of glass. Mulder reached forward and enthusiastically shook Holly's sleeve.  
  
"We won't fail you, ma'am. We promise. Right, Doggett?"  
  
"Right. C'mon. Let's go. We gotta figure out how to work this thing," said the other man, gesturing at the video camera and making for the door.  
  
***  
  
Scully had not gone to humiliate Mulder. She'd actually left to get some Skittles from the vending machine on the third floor. Then she decided to use the bathroom on the fourth, the nicest one in the building. She dawdled on her way, hoping to make Mulder squirm as long as possible. The first thing she noticed was a stoic security guard standing between the doors of the men's restroom and the women's. She smiled at the guard and tried to open the door to the women's restroom when there was a large, powerful hand on her shoulder. Uncertain and wide-eyed, she stepped back and turned her head.  
  
The guard was staring at her.  
  
"Is there a problem?" she asked politely.  
  
"There is absolutely a problem," the guard said. "No gentlemen allowed in the ladies' room."  
  
"Wha --- I ---" She looked down at herself, in Mulder's suit, and realized what the guard meant. She softened. "Sir, come on. I'm not physically a man. I think you can see that."  
  
"Sorry, Agent. Not today. You can just use the little boys' room."  
  
Scully pouted a bit, like she was about to protest, but the guard stopped her with a sharp look. So, feeling totally humiliated, she let her shoulders droop and walked into the men's room next door, only to be greeted by a long line of similarly dressed, similarly depressed, women. She got in line right behind Reyes, who was looking really uncomfortable.  
  
"Hey, Dana," she said, and squirmed.  
  
"Hey, Monica."  
  
She looked around Reyes and into the bathroom beyond. The urinals were devoid of people. There seemed to be a bank of stalls, but she couldn't tell what was holding up the line.  
  
"You been in here long?" she asked Reyes.  
  
"Mm hm." More squirming.  
  
Dana Scully had been raised not to put up with bullshit, and her friend clearly needed access to a toilet. "Hey! What's the hold-up?!" she yelled.  
  
Someone near the front answered, "There's only one stall working!"  
  
"Oh, great," Scully muttered.  
  
The whole place smelled vaguely of sweat and urine, and Reyes was practically dancing up and down, she had to go so bad. Finally she stopped hopping.  
  
"This is ridiculous! I've been waiting fifteen minutes, and my bladder's going to explode!" she yelled, and jumped out of line. "Nobody look, all right?"  
  
The other women watched, astonished, as she approached one of the urinals. A few gasped, and they all turned their heads away in disgust as Reyes dropped Doggett's pants. His shirt fell to the middle of her thighs, hiding everything underneath, so she took the opportunity to wiggle her underwear down to her knees and position herself over the urinal, with one leg on each side.  
  
She let fly, sighing in relief. Scully had just a few seconds to be proud of her when another brave soul joined her at the urinals, and then another, and another. Pretty soon, all the women were taking care of business, without looking at each other. With enough of their brains *not* occupied with "gotta pee gotta pee gotta pee," they all finally noticed the radio playing. It was WHIP, the local Country-Western station.  
  
WHIP was a joke in the Bureau. Everybody hated it --- the "my girl done left me" and "let's get hosed" numbers got on everybody's nerves, and the squeaky clean love ballads and Jesus stuff made most of the hard-bitten females of the FBI want to puke.  
  
Needless to say, no one had given it a second thought, or a second chance, until a hard and fast twangy guitar intro kicked in. Reyes apparently had some experience with this station. As everyone was cleaning up, she recognized the intro and yelled . . .  
  
"Oh my God! IT'S GARTH! Yeah, baby!"  
  
Everyone started to clean up at the sinks and snicker. Leave it to "Moronica" to listen to WHIP. Scully was wondering who in the hell had exposed the poor woman to this, but soon found herself caught up in Garth Brooks' famous patter song, "Ain't Goin' Down Till the Sun Comes Up." She began to dance around with the other women and laugh as Monica sang along with Garth's furious pace . . .  
  
"Six o'clock on Friday evening,  
  
Mama doesn't know she's leaving,  
  
Till she hears the screen door slamming,  
  
Rubber squealing, gears are jamming.  
  
Local country station just a-blarin' on the radio,  
  
Pick him up at seven and they're headin' to the rodeo.  
  
Momma's on the front porch, screamin' out her warning,  
  
Girl, you better get your red head back in bed before the morning!"  
  
The chorus stayed with Scully long after she'd left the bathroom.  
  
"Ain't goin' down 'till the sun comes up,  
  
Ain't givin' in 'till they get enough.  
  
Goin' round the world in a pick-up truuuuuuck,  
  
Ain't goin' down 'till the sun comes up!"  
  
Arm in arm with Reyes, they laughed their way down the hall and back to the basement office, Scully gently prodding her all the way to find out who exactly had exposed her to WHIP.  
  
Reyes just smiled, but said nothing.  
  
***  
  
Who addicted Monica Reyes to Garth Brooks? And what will happen with Kersh and the muumuu? Find out in Chapter 4: "Nobody's Bitch." Coming Soon! 


	4. Nobody's Bitch

Note: Again, thanks for all the reviews so far. I've received a few questions about the nature of a muumuu. First of all, it's a native costume of Hawaii. (I think. I might be wrong.) Basically, it's an ankle- length, cotton dress that's fitted at the shoulders and under the arms, and the rest of it just billows out like a tent. While not "proper office attire," muumuus are very cool and comfortable. Usually, they're dyed with bright colors, and sport patterns of really big flowers. :D And on we go!  
  
***  
  
Chapter Four: "Nobody's Bitch."  
  
"Okay. The green light is blinking. What does that mean?" Doggett asked, squinting into the eyepiece.  
  
He and Mulder were hanging out in an empty cubicle on the fifth floor, figuring out how to use the camera. They were also coming up with a plan to catch Kersh "all dolled up" and not get killed in the process.  
  
"That means it's recording," Mulder said.  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"Sure, I'm sure! That's the way it is for all video cameras, high-tech or no."  
  
"Yeah, well all's I'm saying is you better be right. Because if this doesn't record, we're screwed."  
  
"Oh, stop being so dramatic."  
  
"Earth to Mulder! We're like Daffy Duck with the nitroglycerine, here. We're gonna do this ONCE."  
  
Mulder sighed. "Well, I think I have a plan that's sound."  
  
"So lay it on me."  
  
"Okay. Goes something like this. I'll walk into Kersh's outer office, where he'll most likely be."  
  
"Uh huh," Doggett said, aiming the camera at him.  
  
"Then, I'll ask him to come with me, saying that Skinner has called an emergency meeting and asked him to be there. He'll get up and follow. As soon as he's out in the hallway, you start following us with the video camera."  
  
"Sounds good so far," Doggett said, focusing it on one of his own hands. "Then what?"  
  
"Then, I'll distract him all the way back to his office, say it was a mistake, blah blah blah, and you will have skedaddled."  
  
"Okay. But what do I do if he sees me?"  
  
"You run for your goddamn life, is what you do! What kind of a question is that?"  
  
"It's the sensible kind," Doggett growled. "'Sides, what if I drop the video camera?"  
  
"Doggett, don't worry," Mulder said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We'll just tie it to your head. Kersh might spot you, but . . ."  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
Mulder cackled. "Just seeing if you were paying attention."  
  
"Asshole. I'm wearing four-inch heels, in case you haven't noticed. The last thing I need is to be chased by Satan in a muumuu."  
  
"Relax. If he sees you, just toss the camera to me and run. He'll be less likely to go after you that way. I'm the point man, after all. And I have longer legs than he does."  
  
"Okay," sighed his partner in crime.  
  
"And above all, remember the golden rule for not being noticed. Act natural."  
  
Doggett put the device down and glared at him. "Mulder. I am standing here in a skirt and high heels, holding a very shiny video camera. How in the hell am I supposed to act natural?"  
  
"You're a resourceful man. Think of something. Now hand me the camera. I gotta introduce us."  
  
Doggett held on to it possessively and eyed Mulder. Mulder reached for the device. A brief "No / Yes / No / Come on, Doggett!" struggle ensued. Finally, the vision of the camera went black and a new picture appeared. The gray walls of the cubicle and the desk inside it came into focus.  
  
"There we go," came Mulder's voice. He turned the lens on himself and waved, holding the device at arm's length.  
  
"Oh-kay!" he said. "Rolling! The time is, uh . . ." He looked down at Scully's wristwatch, on his left hand. "11 am. Agents Fox Mulder and . . ." the view shifted to Doggett, leaning against a cabinet, who nodded sullenly. "John Doggett reporting. Of course, today, we are Agents Vixen Mulder and John Doggette, AKA 'Kersh's Bitch.'"  
  
Doggett rolled his glass-blue eyes and flipped off the camera.  
  
"Ooooh. Easy on the finger there, tiger," came Mulder's voice over the image. "You'll need it later."  
  
"Yeah," Doggett quipped. "For cooperatin' with my hand in breakin' your neck. Can we get on with this, please?"  
  
Mulder turned the camera on himself and commented, "Catty!"  
  
"Hmph. I don't know about you, *Vixen,* but I ain't nobody's bitch."  
  
"Oh, yeah? Manly man in partner's clothing? Prove it."  
  
"Fine." The view jiggled as Doggett grabbed the camera, muttering, "Gimmeedat." He focused it on Mulder. "Let's get this show on the road."  
  
He pressed a button and squinted into the eyepiece. Two words started flashing in the lower right corner of the screen:  
  
DOGGETT CAM  
  
"Aaaand . . . you're on."  
  
Mulder began to walk down the hallway. He turned to the camera and spoke quietly.  
  
"By the way, Doggett, if anything goes wrong, or either of us dies in the attempt, I just want you to know that it's been a pleasure working with you."  
  
"Likewise," came the disembodied voice behind the camera.  
  
"Okay, then. Let's do it."  
  
A few people popped their heads into the hall, curious as to what was going on, as Doggett hustled by Kersh's outer office and knelt behind a nearby corner, holding the video camera up with one hand and giving Mulder a thumbs-up with the other. Mulder saw the sign and walked into the office.  
  
***  
  
Kersh began to snicker the instant he saw Mulder. Not that Mulder didn't show a mighty nice figure in his skirt and jacket, but Kersh was still amused.  
  
"Agent Mulder," he said, and coughed to hide his laughter. "What can I do for you? A manicure, perhaps? Or how about some make-up? A little blush would set off those pearl earrings nicely."  
  
He snickered openly as Mulder glared at him.  
  
"Actually, *Alvin,*" he said, making the "Al" as nasal as he possibly could, "Skinner asked to speak with you. An emergency meeting has been called. Apparently, some of the secretaries slash A.D.'s are messing things up."  
  
"There's a shock," Kersh said sullenly. "Where's the meeting?"  
  
"Skinner's office."  
  
"Oh, hell," Kersh muttered, not willing to expose his attire to the entire hallway. "Let me get my coat."  
  
"Forget the coat, will you? There's no time! We have to go!" Mulder said, grabbing Kersh by the arm and hauling him out of the office. "Come on!"  
  
They began to walk away, Kersh looking a bit irritated at being yanked along. Doggett was clumsily poking along on his heels behind them, lips pursed in concentration, pointing the video camera at them both.  
  
Kersh's muumuu looked interesting under the lights. It was purple, with a huge white and yellow flower pattern. The fluorescent lights brought out the all the blue in the dye, making it shimmer. It really would have looked nice on a woman.  
  
But a man, yesterday one of Kersh's favorite agents, today a secretary, saw the procession, put two and two together, and blew everything to hell.  
  
He gasped.  
  
Kersh turned and looked at him irritably. "What?!" he bellowed.  
  
The man just stared, but not directly at Kersh.  
  
And Kersh looked behind him. His brown eyes widened fiercely and he flared his nostrils like an enraged bull at the unfortunate camera man. Doggett, for his part, had gone from tough and tan to pale and quivering in a record three-and-a-half milliseconds. He was still hanging onto the video camera, its view of the floor shaking because his knees were knocking. The heels didn't help.  
  
All he managed was a strangled "eep!"  
  
"You son of a biiiiiiiiiitch!" Kersh roared, and ran straight at him.  
  
And Doggett, privately dubbed "Mr. Tough Guy" by Scully and Reyes, screamed like a girl, spun around 180 degrees, and hauled ass.  
  
Kersh was a former military man. He didn't mess around when it came to chasing stuff and killing it. That determination had taken him far in the FBI. He was also gleefully in flats, which meant he had better balance than Doggett in his pumps. But the slim agent made a slippery target. Mulder was trailing them both, yelling and trying to stop the Deputy Director.  
  
Doggett, however, had done one thing right. He'd put the video camera over one shoulder, catching Kersh chasing him. The muumuu was flaring in all directions, providing considerable wind resistance, but the D.D. was gaining on him.  
  
"Yeah, you chicken!" he yelled. "Just try and get away! You in your goddamn heels! Who's fast NOW, motherfucker?!"  
  
Doggett's heart was hammering, and he bounded through the office space like a jack rabbit. The chase was wild. He ducked and dodged in and out of cubicles, yelling and scattering papers as he ran through. Finally, he swung around a corner, Kersh hot on his tail. The turn was so sharp that he almost went down. Mulder was about three feet behind Kersh and yelling at Doggett at the top of his baritone voice.  
  
"Fucking HELL, you idiot, throw me the camera! He's too close!"  
  
Mulder was right. Doggett braved a look over his shoulder, and Kersh was snarling, not a foot away from him.  
  
"FUCK!" he yelled, and pitched the device like a football in Mulder's direction, just as Kersh tackled him on the carpet.  
  
The camera took in the following: the noise of Doggett ("oof!") being hit by Kersh ("rrrrgh!"), an overview of the cubicles, filled with many stunned people, Mulder, as seen from above, Mulder's face looking very shocked, and an extreme close-up of Mulder's forehead before going black.  
  
Fortunately, Mulder had a thick skull, as Scully had ruefully pointed out on more than one occasion. The device left only small cut on his forehead. He caught the video camera even though it had whacked him, shook off the blow, and took off running in the opposite direction. Kersh, who'd gotten off a few punches on an exhausted Doggett, left the man curled in a fetal position on the floor and ran after the other agent, yelling obscenities.  
  
Mulder bolted for the elevator faster than a gelding at the Kentucky Derby. He skidded to a halt inside. The back wall finally stopped him when he slammed into it, and he frantically lurched forward to press the "close doors" button. They were obeying slowly.  
  
Wide-eyed, he took in Kersh, coming straight for the elevator, and he began to bang on the button as hard and fast as he could. Kersh was a few yards away and starting to run . . .  
  
There was a foot-wide gap.  
  
Kersh was a few feet away.  
  
The gap was 8 inches across.  
  
The last thing Mulder saw of Kersh was three inches of the other man's purple, sweaty face, as the doors closed just in time.  
  
He hit "4" and slumped against the wall, exhausted. Again, he held the "Doggett Cam" out in front of him at arm's length, amazed that the device was still recording.  
  
"This is Special Agent Fox Mulder," he wheezed. "For myself and the amazingly courageous and speedy Agent Doggett, who I will go and retrieve in very short order . . ." He took another breath. "End transmission."  
  
He turned the camera off. The elevator dinged. He cautiously stepped out and looked around. No Kersh. That was a good sign. He walked quickly into Skinner's outer office, slightly disheveled and sweaty, a few drops of blood on his white blouse from the cut on his head. He was carrying the video camera carefully.  
  
Skinner looked up at him. Having finished the expense report coding, he was now enjoying a donut and coffee.  
  
"Mulder, can I help you?"  
  
"Yes. I, uh, I need to see A.D. Baker. Immediately. There's a pressing situation on the fifth floor that I have to get back to."  
  
"Um, okay. Hang on." He turned on the intercom. "Ma'am?"  
  
"Yes, Walter?" came Holly's voice.  
  
"Ma'am, Agent Mulder is here to see you."  
  
"Send him in."  
  
Skinner gestured towards the door, but didn't get up. Mulder went for the door.  
  
***  
  
A few minutes later, he had presented Holly with the evidence and was pounding up the stairs to the fifth floor, stopping only for a second to apply the band-aid she'd handed him.  
  
When he reached the fifth floor, he headed straight for the spot where Doggett had gone down. There was nobody there. Fearing for the other man's safety, he braved a look into Kersh's outer office. Kersh wasn't there.  
  
But he had a hunch that Doggett hadn't gotten very far. He gingerly knocked on the inner office's door.  
  
"Yes?" came a female voice.  
  
"Uh, hi. I'm Agent Mulder. Who am I speaking to?"  
  
"Deputy Director MacIntyre. You're that tall, brown-haired guy with the alien fixation, aren't you?"  
  
"Yeah, that's me," Mulder said with a bit of a grin.  
  
"Are you looking for Agent Doggett?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Where is he?"  
  
"In here. I rescued him. Alvin's in the copy room 'till three."  
  
Mulder heard the door being unlocked and opened it into Kersh's spacious office. Rhonda smiled at him, quite the picture in her yellow suit. He smiled back. She pointed at the leather couch at the other end of the room. Doggett was decorating it like a flowered rug, curled on his side. He had his arms over his belly and was looking utterly miserable. He managed to open his eyes a bit as Mulder came over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Hey," Doggett said.  
  
"Hey, yourself. What happened?"  
  
"You mean, after you ran away?" Doggett asked caustically.  
  
"I didn't 'run.' I gave the evidence to A.D. Baker and then came back for you. So, again. What happened?"  
  
"Kersh almost kicked the shit out of me, that's what happened. Fortunately, this lady over here put a stop to it and sent him away. She brought me in here." He turned to her. "Thanks again, Ms. MacIntyre, I 'ppreciate it."  
  
"No sweat," she said, coming over to him. "Did he hit you in the stomach?"  
  
"Right across the elastic of my damn hose."  
  
"Ow."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, Agent Doggett, you're gonna hate me for this right now, but the only way to get your stomach to stop cramping is to get oxygen to the muscles. And the only way to do that is to stand up and stretch."  
  
Doggett looked at her, wide-eyed. "That's gonna hurt!" he said.  
  
"No shit, sherlock. Come on, up with 'ya." She offered him her hands.  
  
He took them. She helped him stand up, then uncurl himself slowly. He hissed in pain a couple of times, but finally he was ramrod straight. Mulder gave him an encouraging nod.  
  
"Come on," he said. "Stand tall. Nobody's ever going to call you Kersh's Bitch again."  
  
Doggett gave him a small smile. The phone on Rhonda's desk rang.  
  
"Excuse me," she said, and answered it sternly. "MacIntyre."  
  
Mulder and Doggett smirked at each other.  
  
"Yes. Thank you. I'll send them your way." She hung up. "That was A.D. Baker, boys. She wants to present you with something."  
  
***  
  
A few minutes later found them waiting in A.D. Skinner's outer office. They were sitting on the couch primly, their legs crossed, a little impatient to get in and see Holly. Skinner was typing again, listening to Mulder babble as he inspected himself. Doggett was rolling up a newspaper, annoyed, and eyeing Mulder. The other man had been muttering non-stop for the last few minutes. There was his blood-specked blouse, the new run in his hose from racing away from Kersh, the slight tear in his skirt, and now he was mumbling about the state of his hands.  
  
"Geez," Mulder said. "You know, maybe Kersh was right. Maybe I do need a manicure. I mean, look at these nails! They're just a disgrace. I wonder if Scully knows any good places to go . . ."  
  
Doggett cracked.  
  
"Stop, it, stop, it, stop, it!" he yelled, swatting Mulder on the head with the newspaper.  
  
Mulder shielded his face and Skinner started laughing.  
  
"Don't even!" Doggett snarled at him, and pointed the newspaper in his direction threateningly.  
  
Skinner blanched. It was about to get ugly. But Holly opened the inner door just in time, distracting all of them with her amusing appearance and big eyes. The men immediately quieted and looked at her politely.  
  
"Come in, Agents," she said quietly.  
  
Doggett and Mulder stood up as a unit, adjusted themselves, and went in to claim their prize.  
  
***  
  
What further adventures await our fantastic foursome? Find out in Chapter Five: "Lord of the Rings." 


	5. Lord of the Rings

Author's Note: Hey, peeps! Thankee as usual for all of the amazingly kind reviews. Oh, just in case --- beef stroganoff, which is mentioned in this, is a robust, hearty dish. I've eaten it once in my life and it was very good. It's chunks of stringy beef in a thick brown sauce, usually served with vegetables. I think butter is involved. When it's made well, it's excellent. When it's not, well, it's not pretty. Here's Chapter Five! :D  
  
***  
  
Chapter Five: "Lord of the Rings."  
  
At about noon, everything was done. Holly needed the triumphant heroes to sign wavers for the credit card and had asked them several questions about the video. They even watched it once on Skinner's television, together, to make sure it was viable. It was. She told them she'd have the copies circulating in less than a week, and shook both their hands very heartily. Then she'd handed them the card.  
  
The guys, pleased at their success, were feeling about as fancy-free as possible in their confining skirts and jackets. In fact, their biggest worry at the moment was who was going to protect the credit card (with his life) and who was going to tell "the gals" the good news, because they figured they should split the duties halfway.  
  
In the end, they flipped a coin. Doggett got the credit card. Mulder got announcing duty. But before they could go down to the basement, they both realized one thing: breakfast had finally caught up with them. They realized it at the same moment and gave each other a knowing look, then headed to the men's room on the fourth floor.  
  
Mind you, they had no idea how they were actually going to USE the men's room the way they were dressed, but they went for the familiar door just the same. And a very large hand came down on Mulder's back. He turned around and blinked. It was the burly security guard, who was still at his post between the doors. He was looking very annoyed with Mulder.  
  
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked.  
  
Mulder stared at him. "To use the restroom," he said, as though to a five- year-old.  
  
"Oh, really! Well, that's lovely, *ma'am,* except you seem to be pointing at the wrong door. No women allowed in the men's room."  
  
"We ARE men!"  
  
"Sorry, honey, not today. Here, let me help you," he said, over Mulder's protests, and shoved him into the ladies' room.  
  
Doggett just stared like an idiot. Finally, off the security guard's fierce look, he meekly followed Mulder into the women's room. He straightened up inside, rather surprised.  
  
"Wow. Nice," was his first comment.  
  
It was true. The ladies' room was tastefully decorated with an outer waiting room, complete with comfortable couches, and the inner portion was spotlessly clean and modern --- steel stalls, black and white tile flooring, and porcelain sinks. Classical music was playing from the speakers high above their heads. Mulder was wandering towards the stalls. He pushed open one door and stepped in, closing it behind him. Doggett followed him and pushed open another door.  
  
"I don't know about you, but I'm not sittin' down," he said.  
  
"No kidding," Mulder replied. "That would be totally unnatural." He heard the door open outside as somebody else came in.  
  
Inside his stall, Doggett was whistling, preparing to do his business. It seemed to be a simple enough operation --- get the pantyhose down to a reasonable height (somewhere around the calf area), then yank his underwear down, hold his skirt up, and do what men had been doing in bushes for tens of thousands of years.  
  
Unfortunately, he miscalculated the tension in the pantyhose. As soon as he pulled the hose down, the edges curled under, creating a snowball effect. The elastic waist zipped down his legs and snapped around his knees like a vice, yanking them unexpectedly together. And because he was basically on his toes in the heels, he lost his balance and pitched forward with a yelp, banging one arm on the side of the stall and reaching forward with the other.  
  
By some luck, he just managed to grab the plunger and caught himself. Barely. His knees still hit the floor, albeit slowly, but his forward/downward momentum flushed the toilet. He ended up with his head in the basin, water splashing up into his face. On the plus side, the toilet water washed off the make-up.  
  
"Doggett? Are you okay in there?"  
  
"Yeah. Just perfect. Rackin'frackin'. . ." he was mumbling.  
  
There was laughter from another stall. Doggett clumsily got up off the floor and angrily ripped a seat cover from the holder, water dripping off his face.  
  
"If that was you, Mulder, so help me, I'll---"  
  
"Wasn't me. I swear."  
  
"Well then who was it?" Doggett asked, spreading the cover on the seat.  
  
"God, you boys crack me up," came a familiar voice. "Especially you, Agent Doggett. Tryin' to be all manly in a dress. Just deal with it! Sit down, already."  
  
Doggett was already seated. But Mulder recognized the voice.  
  
"Bickerstaff?" he called.  
  
"Yep," the burly agent said, and laughed. "You guys should hear the way they talk about the X-files in Accounting. Except for that kook Harrison, everyone calls your account 'the wasteland.'"  
  
"Funny, Bickerstaff, I heard that's what they call your love-life," Doggett shot back.  
  
Bickerstaff exploded. "Put a sock in it, beanpole!"  
  
"Fat ass!"  
  
"Doggett!" Mulder yelled.  
  
"What?! Y'know, he can think whatever he wants about the department. He can snicker and laugh, as much as he likes, because I know we do good work and he's fulla bullshit," Doggett said, standing up, cleaning up, pulling up his unmentionables, and flushing the toilet. A few seconds later he was smacking open the door and leaving the stall. "But it's not my fault he's eaten one too many official FBI donuts."  
  
"Oh yeah, you bastard?!" Bickerstaff hollered, coming out of his stall. "Well, it's not my fault Spooky's taken one too many hits off the official FBI crackpipe, but you don't see ME yelling about it!"  
  
"SHUT UP! Both of you!" Mulder yelled, barreling out of his own stall.  
  
The two combatants stood there, seething, but watching him.  
  
"I've never been so disgusted in my life. What the hell is the matter with you two? You're grown men. You barely know each other. Doggett, you sit on your hands for a second. And as for you, Bickerstaff, Agent Doggett has never done anything to you, so as far as I can tell, you're the instigator here. Why cause a fist fight in the ladies' room? . . . You're angry? Is that it? You want to blame somebody, anybody, for the fact that you look like shit in that elastic dress?"  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Well, what do you want? "Miss America"? You're not a woman, and you're not a supermodel. And we weren't laughing. You laughed first! At my associate's misfortune, I might add."  
  
"Yeah!" Doggett threw in.  
  
"So you have to apologize," Mulder concluded, crossing his arms and posturing.  
  
Bickerstaff opened and closed his mouth a few times, but it was a moment before anything came out. Apparently, he'd seen the error of his ways. He hung his head.  
  
"You're right," he said, rather ashamed. "This is actually my second visit. I found out about the interesting properties of pantyhose just like Agent Doggett did when I came in the first time." He looked up at the two of them. "I'm --- I'm sorry."  
  
He extended his hand. Doggett, a bit taken aback, shook it.  
  
"S'okay," he said gruffly. "Just watch it. Stuff like that hurts. Us guys gotta stick together, ya know."  
  
Bickerstaff nodded. The three of them headed over to the sinks to wash up.  
  
***  
  
Lunch was a disaster.  
  
Everyone was asked to report to the cafeteria at 12:30, because it was correctly assumed that no one wanted to leave the building. There was one huge seating. The agents from the X-files division tromped along together. Doggett was listening, rather pleased, while Mulder began his announcement. He managed to quietly tell Scully and Reyes that they'd made a videotape of Kersh. But due to his slight proclivity towards "good storytelling" and the group's fast walking pace, he didn't get to finish. Before he could explain the outcome, the four of them were separated.  
  
The men were ushered in through one set of doors and the women were herded through another. A large drapery went down through the middle of the cafeteria, dividing it in two. There was no food allowed outside the cafeteria, mostly to keep people from escaping and switching lunches. There weren't even any options for this meal. Three different dishes on each side were passed out, at random, to those seated there.  
  
The women's side of the cafeteria was sulky and silent. Reyes wasn't really hungry yet, since she was used to eating a bit later in the day, and Scully just didn't like being in a throng of women. She'd gotten some cold looks around the building before, but now the glances and sniggers were more vicious, since everyone recognized Mulder's UFO tie. She kept trying to remember his kind words to her, kept trying to bury herself in the hope of having a nice evening with him at home, the rest of the FBI be damned, but it wasn't working very well.  
  
The guys were just hungry. Doggett and Mulder were sitting at a table with Skinner, Bickerstaff, and some others, and Kersh was at a table on the other end of the cafeteria, so they didn't even see each other. That was the saving grace of the "meal."  
  
The women shifted a bit and most of them recoiled in horror at what was being put on their plates. Scully looked around her part of the cafeteria. There was apparently nothing but grease, meat, fat, and worthless sugar as far as the eye could see. "Man food," basically. Not a vegetable in sight. She had been served a double cheeseburger from McDonald's a large order of French fries, and an extra-large Coke. Perhaps Mulder's garbage disposal of a stomach could have handled it, but she was definitely having reservations about her own. Reyes was looking at a very unappetizing serving of beef stroganoff and a big cup of Sprite. She was poking the stroganoff with her fork and making a face.  
  
The men were equally unhappy with their food. Doggett looked at the small bowl of salad in front of him, hoping that by blinking very hard, he could make it go away. It wasn't working.  
  
"Goddammit. What do they think we are, rabbits? I'm not eatin' this crap."  
  
That resolve lasted about four seconds, because he was so hungry that he began to pour salad dressing on it, in the hopes that it would make it go down easier. Mulder stared at his meal forlornly. It was a small cup of fat-free plain yogurt, a plastic container full of fruit and Grape Nuts, and a small glass of orange juice. He actually whimpered. Skinner had lucked out. He'd come away with a turkey sandwich, which he wasted no time eating. Mulder was eyeing it. Skinner eyed him back, chewing.  
  
"Fightcha for it," Mulder said.  
  
"Hell no," Skinner said, through a mouthful of food. It came out like "How no."  
  
Back on the women's side, trouble was brewing. Adams, a chunky, surly agent in Accounting, had never liked Scully. She'd always been irritated at Mulder's friendship with her. So that morning, she'd followed the small woman in the hallways and made a point of staring at Mulder's tie around her neck, and was pleased with how riled up Scully got. At the moment, she was sitting a table away and licking her lips at Scully's meal.  
  
Scully had never liked Adams. And the other woman's behavior today had been rude, to say the least. She narrowed her eyes defensively, gave Adams the mental bird, and took a big bite out of her cheeseburger. The grease ran down her chin, and she mopped it up with a napkin, disgusted with herself.  
  
Later, she would be unable to decide between blaming herself and blaming genetics, because as a good scientist, she knew she had to take all evidence into account. After all, she reasoned, what happened wasn't entirely her fault. She hailed from good, tough, strong family. But her clan had a proud streak a mile wide --- it had caused some pretty phenomenal fights at the dinner table. No insults or rude looks were tolerated in her father's house.  
  
And Adams kept staring and licking her chops. That did it. Scully glared at Adams, challenging her. Adams swelled with anger. Scully's response was her famous eyebrow raise, accompanied by a little grin.  
  
She had decided, rather arrogantly, that she was going to teach Adams a lesson today: "Don't ogle what you can't have." So she smiled broadly, locked eyes with her adversary, and kept eating the uncomfortably large meal. Reyes stared in concern, as did some other women at her table, but Scully was very determined to make her point. She took bite after bite of the big, greasy burger, getting noticeably slower with each chomp. But she finished all of it. She even licked her fingers and watched in delight as Adams stared, with murder in her eyes. Then she washed it down with two- thirds of the Coke.  
  
Big mistake.  
  
Scully had been "low-fat/non-fat/no red meat/lots of vegetables" for so long that the mere sight of what she was eating was a turn-off. And now, all that meat and cheese and secret sauce was rolling around in her small stomach, in a soup of highly acidic soda. The effect on her petite, well- cared-for digestive system was immediate. Most of the cafeteria was watching, waiting something to happen.  
  
They weren't disappointed. Scully blanched, stood up quickly, dashed towards the door, and began throwing up loudly in the trash can. The rest of the women looked disgusted.  
  
Reyes, seeing her friend's reaction to the food, pushed hers away without touching it, ran over, and helped Scully hold her hair back, sighing a bit as the other woman retched. If anything had given her an appetite for Ding- Dongs today, it was that nasty-looking stroganoff.  
  
And Adams, seeing her opponent down for the count, got up. She smugly walked over to Scully's place setting, and with one swipe, grabbed the French fries.  
  
Somebody else took the Coke.  
  
Holly and Rhonda, at a corner table, were the only ones to shout to Reyes, "Is Agent Scully all right?"  
  
All they got was a strained smile and curt nod as the taller woman hustled the shorter one out of the cafeteria. Just in time --- Scully leaned over and retched in another trash can in the hallway.  
  
***  
  
The meal was over in twenty minutes.  
  
Scully was very much the center of attention on the way back to the office. The men, grumbling and unsatisfied, had left the cafeteria not a minute later than the women and met them in the hallway. Reyes was looking ravenous --- Doggett stopped at a nearby vending machine and got her some Ding Dongs --- and Scully was looking white about the face. She spent the trip down to the basement leaning heavily on Mulder and moaning quietly, while Reyes told them what happened, opening up her package of food.  
  
"Agent Adams can screw herself," Scully whimpered, holding her belly. "I'm never doing that again."  
  
Mulder, in response, just pulled her close. His arm was so long on her that he got his hand over hers on her stomach. She smiled at him slightly. Doggett, not knowing Agent Adams from a hole in the ground, looked at Reyes for an explanation.  
  
"Wruck," ("What,") she asked flatly, through a mouthful of Ding-Dong.  
  
He just snickered and wiped some cream off her chin. "Never mind."  
  
When they reached the basement, the men helped Scully into her desk chair. Doggett rolled a spare over so she could put her feet up. She did, and smiled her thanks at both of them, but they were still concerned. Mulder even took out a gray emergency blanket from the supply closet and spread it over her, just to do something.  
  
Any thought of telling the women about the credit card had flitted clear out of their heads.  
  
***  
  
At 1:10, the computer lab called the X-files office to report that they had print-outs ready. It was data for a recent case, and necessary for the paperwork. But since Scully still wasn't feeling very well from lunch and Reyes was unwilling to go out in the halls without a buddy, that left the two guys to go pick them up.  
  
So, Mulder and Doggett, grumpy because they hadn't gotten enough to eat, and annoyed at having to walk through the halls, again, made their way past gaggles of hecklers to the computer lab. They were expecting to find some really ugly women with glasses and some very beautiful men. They were assured, however, of getting the print-outs fast and getting gone, because Mulder knew the lab tech who would give them the papers.  
  
"He's a nice Irish guy," Mulder said. "His name's Luke."  
  
"Ah," Doggett said, his face blank.  
  
They walked into the lab and were immediately struck by a gorgeous sight. A beautiful woman was sitting with her back to them, demurely seated in her chair, legs crossed, and typing quickly on her computer. Long blond hair trailed down the back of her jacket which matched her prim, knee-length skirt. Her amazingly high heels were deep navy, to match her suit.  
  
"Whoa," Doggett muttered. "Somebody didn't get the memo."  
  
"E-Excuse me, miss?" Mulder stammered. "We, uh, we need some help here."  
  
The heavenly creature in the chair turned around, revealing a rather boyish- looking woman, who crossed her arms, pursed her lips momentarily, and responded in a bored baritone . . .  
  
"Sure, Agent Mulder. What can I get for you?"  
  
"Oh shit!" Mulder said before he could stop himself. "Luke?"  
  
The shemale nodded.  
  
"God, you poor bastard! What happened to you?"  
  
"I was ambushed. The ladies in my lab threw me into this costume. I swear, it's the Pendrell Curse."  
  
"Pendrell Curse?" Mulder asked. And then it dawned on him. "Your last name is Pendrell? As in Son of Pendrell?" he joked.  
  
The man/woman laughed. "Cousin of Pendrell, actually."  
  
Mulder introduced Doggett. Luke held out a hand and they shook.  
  
"Everybody calls me Lucky," he said. "My family is very fond of irony."  
  
"No kidding," Mulder said. "Oh, and please accept our very belated condolences for your cousin. We didn't know he had any family."  
  
"Oh, that's all right. Pat always kept quiet about that at work. Thank you, though."  
  
"Sure. So his name was Pat, huh? Scully and I never knew it."  
  
"Well, it was really Patrick. Patrick Pendrell."  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Ah. Well, I'll tell Scully that we've got another faithful Pendrell working for us."  
  
Lucky gave them a small smile.  
  
"And if it's any consolation, Lucky, you look damn good," Doggett offered.  
  
He laughed mirthlessly. "I'm beyond caring how I look. These hose are the itchiest things on the planet, my feet are cramping from the heels, and now I'll miss the pick-up from Tiffany's!" He sighed, shaking his head. "Today is just one disaster after another."  
  
"Tiffany's?" Doggett asked.  
  
"It's *from* Tiffany's. I'm picking up a ring," he said.  
  
"Really! For who?" Mulder teased.  
  
Lucky blushed and grinned for a moment. "My girlfriend. She's so sweet, and smart, and pretty . . . I'd better stop, or I'll never shut up. We've been together for three years. I wanted to take her out to a nice restaurant tonight and propose, before I lost my nerve. Now it's hopeless," he finished, thoroughly depressed again.  
  
"Oh, come on, now," Doggett said. "Nothing's hopeless. Why can't you just do what you're planning to do?"  
  
Lucky snorted. "Hell-oo! A, I'm not leaving the building dressed as a girl. And B, if I get rejected . . . I don't even want to think about it."  
  
He moaned softly and let his head hit the desk. Mulder and Doggett looked at each other. Clearly, this was an injustice of the worst nature. They had to do something to help.  
  
"Where's the ring?" Doggett asked.  
  
"It was shipped to Brilliant Jewelers at the Georgetown Plaza. I'm supposed to pick it up in half an hour. Why?"  
  
"We'll go with you," he said, surprising Mulder. "That way you won't feel so stupid. Safety in numbers, man. C'mon."  
  
Mulder was nodding, finding his nerve. "Yeah. I mean, we are agents, after all. If anybody annoys you, we'll just flash our badges or get out the Sigs, and they'll go away."  
  
Lucky was stunned. "Y-You guys would do that for me?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Of course," Doggett said. He looked very serious.  
  
The tech grinned at them both. "You two are awesome. Just hang on a minute --- let me get my purse, and we'll be on our way."  
  
They watched him as he gingerly got down off the chair, balanced precariously on his heels, and wobbled off to fetch his handbag. Mulder looked at Doggett.  
  
"You do realize that we just agreed to spend our lunch hour in public, dressed as women."  
  
"Yep."  
  
There was a pause as they waited for Lucky to come back. Mulder was starting to fidget.  
  
"Why are we doing this, again?"  
  
"Because something has to work out right for somebody today. And if we can make it happen, then we should."  
  
Mulder blinked a couple of times, but that explanation seemed to worked for him. He began to dig through the purse on his arm, impressed by Doggett's sense of duty to other people. He realized this was probably what Scully had come to respect about the man, even before she'd grown to like him. Finally, he found his prize and the plastic package crinkled in his hand.  
  
Popping some sunflower seeds in his mouth he remarked, "I guess we'll just come back for the print-outs later."  
  
"Yeah. We've got more important things to do," Doggett said. "Hey, can I have some of those?"  
  
***  
  
Mulder started humming the "Mission: Impossible" theme as he, Doggett, and Lucky sneaked out into the foyer of Headquarters. It seemed deserted. They were hoping to get out the door, through the parking garage, into Mulder's car, and to the mall without being spotted by too many people. Fat chance, of course, but blind hope kept them going.  
  
Security was changing shifts right now, so there was no one at the door. That would change soon, though. Despite the humiliation factor that was keeping people from leaving the building, they had to be ready in case someone came in.  
  
"Okay," Mulder hissed. "On three, we run for it. Ready? . . . One! Two! Three!"  
  
They all took off at a dead run for the door, their jackets billowing out behind them. The heels were hindering them all, but they kept barreling along, their goal in sight. Then the unthinkable happened.  
  
Doggett tripped on the carpet.  
  
"Whoooaaa!"  
  
*CRASH*  
  
He went down like a pine tree, flat on his face, and the fall made his skirt flap and hitch up clear to his butt. The noise was enough to wake the dead, and the security guards came stomping down the hall, hurrying to change shift and see what was going on. Lucky was at the door, just behind Mulder.  
  
The taller man shoved him through the doors and yelled, "Run! Save yourself! We'll catch up!"  
  
Lucky ran. Doggett was struggling to get up. And Mulder made a noble sacrifice. He ran back from his position at the door, grabbed the other man by the shoulders and helped him up. They both made it out the door, Mulder running and Doggett hobbling, and zipped away, just as the first security guard entered the room.  
  
They trotted into the parking garage to Mulder's Taurus, which Pendrell was leaning on.  
  
"Oh thank God," he said, spotting the two of them and coming forward. "Are you two all right? You weren't seen, were you?"  
  
Doggett was limping a bit and looking slightly pasty. He was leaning heavily on Mulder.  
  
"No, we weren't seen. But Doggett did something to his knee," Mulder said.  
  
"Aw hell, man, I just scraped it. Don't fuss over me. Let's get outta here and get that ring."  
  
***  
  
Compared to their great escape, the mall was a piece of cake. All three escapees, still hungry from "lunch," picked up sandwiches and soft drinks from the food court, and quickly devoured them. There was a lot of staring and laughing, and when Doggett and Mulder flashed their badges it just got worse, but in due time, they made it to the jeweler's. Lucky wrote his first check of many for the ring. He showed the diamond to his companions, who whistled in approval, and had the lady at the desk put it in a velvet box with a silk interior.  
  
Mulder explained to her what was going on at Headquarters. She complimented them all on their tasteful clothes, gave Doggett a band-aid for his knee (he'd skinned it a bit when he fell) and made sure Lucky carried his prize off in a complimentary gift bag.  
  
***  
  
They were all just terribly pleased with themselves by the time they arrived back at Headquarters, so much so that they ignored the irritated looks security gave them.  
  
"Where the hell did you three go?" a female security guard asked.  
  
"To the mall," Mulder replied with a smile, and she blanched.  
  
"You people are idiots," she said.  
  
"No, we're not. We were on a mission. Besides, I would hardly categorize us as the idiots in this equation, given that you thought that mere humiliation could keep us from leaving the building. We took off and did what we had to because we HAVE. NO. SHAME," he said, sticking his face in hers defiantly. "So, HA!"  
  
Mulder stuck his chest out and walked away. Lucky linked arms with him on one side, Doggett took the other, and they all skipped, *skipped,* past security and into the offices, leaving all the first guard to stare at them angrily, and the others to fall over on their asses laughing.  
  
***  
  
So. Lucky's got the ring. But will he get the girl? Will the men ever manage to tell the women about the credit card? Or remember to pick up the print-outs? How will Scully and Reyes cope with the increasing stress of being male for a day? Find out in Chapter Six: "Deh Man Ah Love." 


	6. Deh Man Ah Love

Author's Note: Thanks as usual for all the reviews. The only song in this chapter that isn't "titled" is from the famous musical, "West Side Story."  
  
***  
  
Chapter Six: "Deh Man Ah Love."  
  
The men had returned successfully from their excursion. Doggett said he was so excited for Lucky that he had to pee. Mulder laughed. Lucky was grinning from ear to ear. They all forgot about the print-outs, and instead the three of them formed a pack and hit the ladies room.  
  
They pushed in through the door to find a throng of annoyed men waiting for stalls. The reason for their annoyance was perfectly clear --- the radio station had been changed. Formerly on the Classical station, apparently someone thought it would be hilarious to put this bathroom's speakers on WHIP, too.  
  
A song by the band Sha'Daisy was pumping in through the speakers at a deafening volume:  
  
"I won't be your Friday paycheck,  
  
I won't be a prize you'll flaunt,  
  
And I won't be your Martha Stewart, baby,  
  
Or your all-night restaurant!  
  
But I will, I will, I will be your e-ve-ry-thi-ing,  
  
If you make me feel like a woman.  
  
I will, I will, I will be the who-ole sheba-ang,  
  
You kno-ow I wi-ill!"  
  
The guys were moaning. Doggett looked up at the speakers, suspended way above the sinks, and decided to try something. He took off his shoes.  
  
"Hey, Mulder. Lucky. Give me a boost, would you?"  
  
So Mulder and Lucky laced their fingers and he stepped into their palms. They hefted him up to where he could reach the speaker. He adjusted a knob next to it, and the music stopped for a moment. The whole bathroom held its breath. And then . . .  
  
"Dude, dude, duuuude, dude looks like a lady,  
  
Dude, dude, duuuude, dude looks like a lady,  
  
Dude, dude, duuuude, dude looks like a lady. . ."  
  
Aerosmith. At a billion decibels.  
  
"Why, God, why?!" Mulder yelled.  
  
Everyone was groaning. Those with free hands were holding their ears in pain. Doggett was right in front of the speaker, and quickly going deaf. So, wincing, he did the only thing that made sense to him at the time. He picked up one of his own shoes and smashed the heel right through the speaker.  
  
"Dude, dude, duuuude, duuuuuuuude . . . Woorrrrp."  
  
The speaker died. The torture stopped. And the men cheered as Doggett was lowered down. He made a stiff bow, hopped around trying to get his shoes on, and then everybody got on with their business.  
  
Finally, the "mall rats" were the only three guys left in the bathroom. Mulder and Doggett were at the sinks washing up. Lucky was still in a stall.  
  
"You know what I always wondered?" Doggett said, hunting for the paper towels. "What do women do in the bathroom for so long? It seems like they take forever, even when there's no line. I don't get it."  
  
"I think they sing," Mulder said, drying his hands.  
  
Doggett stared at him, drying his own.  
  
"You know what *I* think? I think your high heels are cutting off the circulation to your brain."  
  
"Oh. Low blow, Doggett. For this, you will writhe in agony."  
  
And he began to "sing," much to Doggett's amusement. Mulder, while a crack investigator and brilliant psychologist, was utterly tone deaf. Of course, tone deaf people rarely *recognize* that they're tone deaf, so he started in, clapping his hands between phrases.  
  
"I feel pretty, *clap CLAP*  
  
Oh so pretty, *clap CLAP*  
  
I feel pretty, and witty, and bright! *clap CLAP*  
  
And I pity, *clap CLAP*  
  
Any guy who isn't me, tonight!"  
  
"Take it, Doggett."  
  
The other man groaned. "I don't believe this." But he took it.  
  
"I feel charming, *clap CLAP*  
  
Oh so charming, *clap CLAP*  
  
It's alarming, how charming, I feel! *clap CLAP*  
  
And so pretty, *clap CLAP*  
  
That I hardly can believe I'm real!"  
  
Lucky was just starting to wash his hands as Doggett finished. Mulder dragged him over to the mirror.  
  
"Aw c'mon, you guys!" Lucky protested, dripping on the floor.  
  
"See that pretty girl in that mirror, there?" Mulder sang.  
  
"Dork."  
  
"Who can that attractive girl be?" Doggett put in.  
  
Lucky sighed, rolled his eyes, and sang, "Which why where who?"  
  
Mulder and Doggett alternated the next part.  
  
"Such a pretty face,"  
  
"Such a pretty dress,"  
  
"Such a pretty smile,"  
  
"Such a pretty me!" Lucky sang.  
  
"Such a pretty me," echoed Doggett.  
  
"Such a pretty me," echoed Mulder.  
  
Lucky hit the base of his range. "Such a pretty me!"  
  
"All together!" Mulder yelled, and they started to sway, chorus line fashion, and sing.  
  
"I feel stunning, *clap CLAP*  
  
And entrancing, *clap CLAP*  
  
Feel like running, and dancing, for joy! *clap CLAP*  
  
For I'm loved, *clap CLAP*  
  
By a pretty, wonderful . . ."  
  
They all stopped short.  
  
Doggett bellowed, "Womaaaaaaan!"  
  
Mulder hollered, "Yeah! Whooo!" and they all started dancing around, waltzing with each other, humming and singing to create music. Skinner walked in on the chaos.  
  
"Excuse me, ladies."  
  
They all stopped dancing and stared at him, embarrassed.  
  
"I gotta take a crap, and I'd prefer not to have musical accompaniment."  
  
"But we were just ---" Lucky started to protest, laughing.  
  
"Shut up. Quit playing Ally McBeal, get the hell out of here, and go back to work. NOW."  
  
They complied and left, even though technically they could have balled Skinner out for "overstepping his position." Lucky was sniggering like an idiot, and Doggett and Mulder weren't feeling the least bit ashamed. Today was turning out to be quite liberating.  
  
***  
  
Unfortunately, the pressure of being guys for a day was starting to get to Scully and Reyes. Scully, now feeling better from lunch, was typing up a report on her computer, and thinking about the events that had led up to her eating that cheeseburger. It all came down to that morning's incident with the vicious Agent Adams. After using the restroom, Reyes had gone back to the office, and she'd gone all over the building, delivering forms and what not.  
  
Adams, not being so industrious as the petite redhead, made a real pest of herself. She followed Scully around and kept staring at Mulder's tie around her neck. After twenty minutes of this, Scully had finally stopped, licked her lips in irritation, turned, and faced her. Adams puffed herself up, a great heap of flesh in her husband's gray suit. She smirked, her lifeless, colorless eyes boring into Scully's icy blue ones.  
  
"What's so damn funny?" Scully barked.  
  
"Nice tie," Adams responded. "Whadja do for Mulder that he letcha have it?" she asked, and waggled her eyebrows.  
  
"Nothing," Scully responded, her face curling up at the insinuation. "You keep your fat mouth shut about his tie. And while you're at it," she added, getting her pert, intelligent face right in Adams' chubby one, "Stick your eyes back in your fat head."  
  
Scully knew she was running a risk of getting popped, but this insult didn't faze Adams.  
  
"I bet Mulder gives you *his* head all the time," she said.  
  
That broke through Scully's icy veneer. The fight was on.  
  
"Too bad your husband doesn't do the same," she spat. "Something tells me you haven't seen any action in a long time, sister."  
  
"I have so!" Adams said, riled.  
  
"Yeah, and my aunt's the queen of England! Whatsamatter, hubby can't get it to stand up anymore?" Scully shot back, her temper rising.  
  
"We're both working!" Adams yelled. "There's no time!"  
  
"Bullshit! If he wasn't such a raging drunk, you might get it on once in a while!" Scully roared.  
  
"My husband is not a drunk!" Adams screeched.  
  
By this point they were attracting all sorts of attention. Reyes came over.  
  
"Well, I'm not sleeping with Mulder! How does that feel, people spreading lies about you? Hm? 'Ya like it?!" she raged, her face fierce.  
  
Dana Scully, usually prim and proper, couldn't believe that half those words had come out of her mouth. But the simple fact was, she'd say anything to protect the secret. Even if it meant balling out a co-worker who was four times her size. Fortunately, Adams bought the lie.  
  
"Fine," she muttered, backing off. "Don't get your skinny little guts in a twist. We have to eat lunch."  
  
*Oh, yeah,* she thought, as Adams left. *I'm cool. Dana One, FBI Zero. Three cheers for ME!*  
  
But snapping back into the present, Scully sighed gloomily. Lunch? Ha. She knew how *that* had turned out. In the end she'd eaten nothing, and the Ding-Dongs hadn't satisfied her fellow agent for very long.  
  
And as for Reyes, she'd been getting funny looks and snickers as the story of her men's room hijinks spread through Headquarters. She'd run errands too, and got tired of it really fast. She kept turning around and giving fierce looks to anyone she caught giggling about her.  
  
At about two, the two women were sitting in the office, bored out of their minds. Scully was munching listlessly on some Cool Ranch Doritos that Reyes had brought her from the vending machine. Both of them had had it with their paperwork. They were making headway, but it wasn't going nearly fast enough, and they didn't know where their partners were.  
  
"Didn't we send Mulder and Doggett up for those print-outs a while ago?" Scully asked, clicking away on her keyboard.  
  
"Yeah," Reyes said. "Where the heck are they?"  
  
"I don't know," Scully sighed. "It's possible that Mulder got sidetracked, or got suckered into doing something stupid, and Doggett most likely went along with it."  
  
"John's not a sheep, Dana. He can think for himself. Whatever they're doing, I'm sure they're fine."  
  
Scully stopped typing and looked at Reyes. "How do you know?"  
  
"I just have a feeling."  
  
"You get feelings a lot, don't you?"  
  
"Well, not really. Just sometimes. But right now my instincts are telling me everything's okay."  
  
Scully leaned back in her chair. She wasn't sure what to make of Reyes' 'feelings' as they were, but knew enough to just let her have her say and not argue with her. She changed the subject. Reyes still hadn't told her the whole story after their adventure in the men's room.  
  
"So. Monica. Garth Brooks?"  
  
Reyes flushed scarlet. Scully saw that and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You don't . . . have a crush on Garth Brooks or something, do you?"  
  
"No! Of course not! God, what do you think I am, a teenager? I just like his music. And *mumble mumble* . . ."  
  
"What?" Scully asked, getting up. This was way more interesting than Mulder's paperwork. She perched on the edge of Reyes's desk and smiled at her. "You said 'and' something else. What did you say?"  
  
"I said I like Phil Vassar too, all right?!" Reyes exploded, and looked miserably at her desk. "And the Dixie Chicks. . . . Kenny Chesney," she added glumly. "Jo Dee Macina. Toby Keith. Brad Paisley. Tim McGraw. Faith Hill. God, Dana, I'm a Country and Western junkie!"  
  
She slumped over her desk with a moan. Scully was laughing. She patted Reyes shoulder.  
  
"Monica. Monica, come on. Sit up." As Reyes did, Scully smiled into her friend's sad brown eyes. "It's nice that you like that music. You shouldn't be ashamed of it. I mean, it's the last thing I would have expected *you* to listen to, but . . . well, you learn something new every day, right?"  
  
Reyes laughed a little. "Right. Living X-file, right here."  
  
"Indeed," Scully teased. "I'll have to write up a report."  
  
"Ha ha."  
  
"So, what happened? Who introduced you to the 'ma girl done left me' medium?"  
  
Reyes blushed and smiled, but wouldn't say anything. Scully leaned in with a gentle grin.  
  
"Can I ask three questions?"  
  
"Okay," Reyes said, playing her game.  
  
"All right. Question number one. Was it a guy?"  
  
"Yes," Reyes said, comfortable.  
  
"All right, question number two. Does his last name start with something that barks?"  
  
Reyes started laughing, but said "Yes" anyway.  
  
Unbeknownst to both of them, Mulder and Doggett were coming down the hall to the office. They stopped outside the door, curious, and had a listen.  
  
"And last one. Does he 'tahk canna like dis?' Like he was born in Georgia but got lost in New York for a decade?" Scully said.  
  
Reyes couldn't speak. She was laughing too hard. She just nodded, and when she could talk again, she said, "Dana, that was perfect! I never knew you could imitate John's accent so well!"  
  
"Well, I heard it almost exclusively when we were looking for Mulder. It was easy to learn."  
  
"C'mon, do him again!" Reyes said, clapping her hands like it was a magic show.  
  
"Okay." Scully cleared her throat, pleased to have an audience. She made her voice as low and raspy as she could and said: "Dunchoo wuhrry, Agenscully, weh gonna fine deem."  
  
Mulder was biting his tongue. Doggett was looking irritated.  
  
Reyes was laughing fit to burst. "Oh my God! You're so right! He doesn't say 'im,' like 'him' without the 'h,' he says 'eem!'"  
  
"And he kind of does that 'deh' thing," Scully said. "Especially when he's annoyed. He doesn't say 'thuh' ball, or 'thuh' park, he says 'deh.'"  
  
"Yeah! Like when he says 'what deh hell izziss?'"  
  
"Exactly! You've got it!"  
  
Reyes took some deep breaths, and succeeded in calming down a little bit. "Yeah, he does talk a little strangely. But it's okay --- it goes with his voice really well. He has a lot of interesting qualities." She thought for a little while. "Actually, he's kind of like a coconut."  
  
Scully raised an eyebrow at this bizarre description. "A coconut. How so?"  
  
"Well, he's tough and crusty and hard on the outside . . . but refreshing and sweet on the inside."  
  
Doggett perked up considerably at this.  
  
"Awww, Monica, that's so nice! So. Has he, uh, introduced you to anything else besides Country?" she asked, playfully. "Some nice restaurants, perhaps? The upstairs of his house?"  
  
"Dana Katherine Scully, get your mind out of the gutter!"  
  
They both exploded into laughter and giggled for a while, and then there was a long pause inside. Doggett held his breath.  
  
Finally Reyes took the vague route out. "He's such a good man, Dana, you have no idea."  
  
"I think I do," Scully said, smiling.  
  
"Well, good. That saves me lots of explanation. But just between us . . ." Reyes licked her lips, unsure if this was the right thing to say. "His accent is nice, but his voice drives me wild. It's really sexy."  
  
"Oh, ho!" Scully said, and laughed.  
  
Doggett could practically hear Reyes blush and try to hide her face in her hands. He found himself beaming like an idiot. Mulder mouthed "All right!" and held up a hand for a high five. Doggett gave him a bit of a grin and they slapped palms.  
  
"And then there's Mulder," Reyes said.  
  
All celebration outside the door ceased. Mulder blanched. Doggett raised his eyebrows.  
  
"What about Mulder?" Scully asked, a note of defense in her voice.  
  
"Well, we're talking about speaking and everything, . . . I mean, he's a great person too, but his voice is kind of . . . well, he's kind of got this nasal, monotone thing going on. Sorry, Dana."  
  
"Oh, don't be sorry," Scully said, laughing. "I'm used to that. You know, they have those automated long-distance collect call voices, now. Sometimes when he calls me he sounds like one of those with a cold. And if he thinks *I* can't sing, he should hear himself in the shower."  
  
Doggett snickered quietly. Mulder glared at him.  
  
"But when he gets excited . . . Mm. His voice can rumble like the sea. The room shakes. And when he's right, and he knows it, I don't know. There's just such power in his words. I get swept away."  
  
"You like his voice, huh?" Reyes asked, smiling.  
  
"It's one of the myriad things I find attractive about him," Scully responded, with a smile. She sounded as sure of this as she was that the sun rose and set each day. "Heck, he even looks hot in drag," she finished. "That has to be worth something."  
  
Now it was Mulder's turn to smile.  
  
"You know, I envy you," Reyes said. "You and Mulder have it all figured out. John and I . . . well it's stupid, but quite frankly, I don't know what we are. I like him, and I'm pretty sure he likes me, and we've spent a bit of time together, but . . . honestly, for such a blunt guy, he's really hard to read sometimes."  
  
Scully came around the desk and looked her friend square in the eye. "You're joking, right?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks I don't." She imitated his accent one last time and said, "'ee loveshoo, Mahnika.' Very much."  
  
"I want to believe that," she said quietly.  
  
Doggett almost felt his heart stop in his chest, but pulled it together. Mulder nodded at the door. They began to talk loudly about sports, opened it, and walked in. Both women looked a bit surprised, but covered all their previous emotions very quickly. In the blink of an eye they'd transformed, from best friends Monica and Dana, to Agents Reyes and Scully.  
  
"Hi, ladies," Doggett said. "What's up?"  
  
"Nothing much," Reyes said, surprised. "Where were you two?"  
  
"Oh, just the usual. Doing good deeds. Saving lives. No biggie," Mulder said. He walked over to the coffee pot and started to pour himself a cup.  
  
Scully was instantly suspicious. "Mulder, turn around."  
  
He did, slowly.  
  
"You never picked up the print-outs, did you?"  
  
Busted. He knew he had "negligent" written all over his face.  
  
"No. We didn't," he said, coming clean. "We did however humiliate Kersh this morning . . ."  
  
"I know. Making that videotape. You told us before lunch. What about it?"  
  
"Would you let me finish?"  
  
She backed off and crossed her arms. "Go ahead."  
  
"Agent Doggett and I made the tape for 'A.D. Baker' and were handsomely rewarded for it."  
  
Both Scully and Reyes's interests were piqued.  
  
"Really," Scully said. "And how were you rewarded for this, exactly?"  
  
"Doggett?" Mulder said. "Show them."  
  
Doggett smiled, and turned his back to the women for "modesty." He fished around in his blouse for a bit, and finding his prize, took out a gleaming silver rectangle. He turned towards them, and then held it out so both of them could see it. Reyes's jaw dropped.  
  
"The --- The Bureau credit card," she stammered. "You guys got the Bureau credit card?"  
  
"WE got the Bureau credit card," Mulder said. "All four of us. For one night. And as it's Friday, I say we all go party after work."  
  
There was a resounding "yeah!" and explosions of glee from everybody, and they also decided to invite Skinner along, so he wouldn't feel left out.  
  
Scully got Mulder's attention. "Mulder, we're both grateful, and I hate to cut the celebration short, but can you and Agent Doggett actually DO what we asked you to do and go pick up the print-outs?"  
  
The merriment faded.  
  
"We are pathetic," Doggett grumbled. "This is, what, the third time we're going back for these things? All right, Mulder, come on. Let's go."  
  
So they trudged out of the office, Doggett hiding the credit card in his top again. Arriving at the elevator, Mulder pushed the button, Doggett adjusted his pantyhose, and Scully's yell rang out behind them.  
  
"Don't forget to invite Skinner!"  
  
"We won't!" they both shouted back in her direction, and turned to the elevator as the doors opened.  
  
The attack took them both by surprise. There was a sudden flash of gray before their eyes. One metal pipe caught Doggett right across the brow and knocked him to the floor. He hit his head and passed out. Another whacked Mulder across the side of the head and knocked him down, too. He was out in a second.  
  
"So, who do we take?" came a question, delivered in a high-pitched wheeze.  
  
"The Easter Bunny. Who do you THINK we take? Grab Spooky's ankles and get him in here. This is gonna be sweet!"  
  
The first wheezy guy strained to pick Mulder up. "It's no good. I can't lift him . . . my asthma . . ."  
  
"Oh for Chrissake!"  
  
Finally Mulder was dragged, ankles first, into the elevator. The doors closed. Doggett still lay there on the cement floor, sprawled like starfish, unconscious and forgotten.  
  
***  
  
A few minutes later, Scully put down the phone in the basement and looked at Reyes.  
  
"We've been called into service as gentlemen," she said. "Rule 51 on the poster says we have to lift something because Agent Menotti is a woman today and quote unquote 'can't do it.'"  
  
"Why do we have to help Menotti?" Reyes whined. "He's such an ass."  
  
"I know. But rules are rules. And he said it's only an empty locker. We should be able to handle it."  
  
"Oh. Well that's no so bad, I guess. I mean, he could've asked us to lift a full filing cabinet, or something."  
  
"True. He's waiting on the ground floor. I think I'll take the stairs," Scully said.  
  
"Okay. I'm going to be lazy and take the elevator," said Reyes.  
  
They both left the office. Scully was halfway to the stairs when she heard a frightened scream echoing off the basement walls. She drew Mulder's gun and went running in the direction of the noise.  
  
"Monica?" she yelled.  
  
"Dana, come over here! Quick! By the elevator!"  
  
Scully scurried along. Finally, she reached the elevator and found Reyes, distraught and mumbling, kneeling on the floor in front of the doors. She was cradling John Doggett in her arms.  
  
***  
  
Dun dun duuuun! Will Doggett be okay? And what's become of Mulder? Hang on for Chapter 7: "How Holly Got Her Groove Back." 


	7. How Holly Got Her Groove Back

Chapter 7: "How Holly Got Her Groove Back."  
  
Doggett was decorating the floor of the basement like a bad rug.  
  
Mulder had been dragged off to parts unknown.  
  
And the two men responsible for this were Agents Arturo Menotti and Fred Tipper. "Art and Freddy" worked in the Computer Crimes Division. Today, however, they were working as secretaries, and they didn't like the treatment they'd received one bit. All the secretaries in suits had been telling Tipper it was "tit for tat," gesturing at Menotti. Tipper knew exactly what they meant, but he was too afraid of the other man to tell him the truth.  
  
Menotti was a bully, plain and simple. He was a decent computer programmer, but not a happy man. He was fond of practical jokes and behavior that approached sexual harassment --- foul mouthed comments, crude innuendo, and jaw-dropping lack of respect. The secretaries hated him.  
  
And Tipper, a small man who'd had asthma and glasses since he was six, was Menotti's sidekick, for lack of a better word. He didn't like the guy at all. But he'd been bullied all through school. So now, at 41, bone-weary from years of being the object of every joke or the target of every punch, he'd given up on the "self-defense" thing. His new motto was, "If 'ya can't beat 'em, join 'em."  
  
Or, more accurately: "Shut your mouth and keep your teeth."  
  
That said, he wasn't sure about Menotti's latest prank. Fox "Spooky" Mulder was not well-liked in the Computer Crimes Division. True, the X- files generated all sorts of rumors in the Bureau. And after that case where Mulder had insisted the computer was trying to kill people, well, he hadn't won many friends in the CCD. But to attack him?  
  
And all for a stupid rule?  
  
Menotti had looked carefully at the Rules Posters and noticed an interesting one that morning. Rule 51 stated that since women are generally not possessed of the same upper body strength as men, any "women" today could ask any "men" to heft heavy items for them. The "men" had to respond with courtesy and do their best to make it happen.  
  
And he'd hatched his plan. A shipment of new gym lockers had just arrived to be put in the locker room. He asked the janitorial staff to remove one locker and leave it in the hallway thirty feet from the men's locker area, on the ground floor. They were confused, but he cited some work order number and they did as he asked, after laughing heartily over his clothes -- - he was wearing a hideous gray dress that he'd borrowed from his sister.  
  
So now the locker was leaning against a wall in the hallway. Menotti and Tipper stumbled out of the elevator holding an unconscious Mulder between them. They quickly stuffed him into the locker and closed the door. Tipper immediately mopped his doughy face with a handkerchief.  
  
"Now for the grand finale," Menotti said. He picked up a nearby phone and dialed the basement.  
  
"Let's see if Spooky's bitch can lift him," he muttered, as it rang.  
  
***  
  
His call was what forced Scully and Reyes to leave the office, but right now it was the farthest thing from their minds.  
  
Reyes' face looked peaked and pinched as she held her partner. She was talking to him. He was still unconscious. There was a bluish bruise forming on his left temple, which was bleeding. She put some gentle pressure on it with the palm of one hand.  
  
"Oh my God! What happened?" Scully asked, coming over and holstering Mulder's weapon.  
  
"It looks like somebody hit him," Reyes said, and kept talking to Doggett. "John?" she asked.  
  
His eyes darted under the lids a bit and he moaned.  
  
"John," Reyes said, getting him into a comfortable position, his head in her lap. "John, come on. Wake up. Wake up for me."  
  
He managed to open his eyes and blink. "Monica?" he asked, looking at her fuzzily. "Zat you?"  
  
"Yeah, it's me," she said, relief flooding her voice. "Dana's here, too. See?"  
  
She pointed and held his head still to avoid a neck injury. He followed her finger with his eyes, all the way across his mid-line, to Scully, who was looking at him from the other side.  
  
"Hi, Dana."  
  
"Hey, John," she said politely, going into "Doctor" mode. She tilted his head so she could see the injury on his temple, then gently palpated the bump on the back of his skull. He cursed.  
  
"Sorry. That was very good tracking. Do you feel dizzy? Is there any ringing in your ears? Any pain besides the bumps?"  
  
"Uh, thanks, no, no, and no."  
  
"Well, you're alert and logical. That's good. Do you think you can stand up?"  
  
"Yeah," he grunted.  
  
Both the women helped him to stand, and he stood firmly, even in the heels. He looked reasonably okay.  
  
"Who hit you?" Reyes asked.  
  
"Some guy, I guess," Doggett replied, touching the back of his head where it had struck the concrete. He winced. "I didn't get a good look at anything." Then he looked around for a second. "Where's Mulder?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know," Scully said. "Why don't you come with us? There's ice in the break room on the first floor, and we have to go upstairs and lift something for Menotti."  
  
"Rotty Menotti?" Doggett asked, with a chuckle. "What does he want hoisted?"  
  
"Probably his worn-out genitalia," Reyes replied grumpily, surprising the other two with her vulgarity and causing Doggett to smirk.  
  
"C'mon, John," she said. She took his arm to give him support, and the three of them stepped into the elevator.  
  
***  
  
They were soon upstairs and walking toward a gathered crowd. Scully and Reyes stood tall and walked fast, and Doggett brought up the rear, holding an ice pack to the back of his head. Menotti was waiting for them next to the locker. Tipper was half hiding behind him, watching.  
  
"Hello, Agents," Menotti said. "Miss Doggett."  
  
Doggett shot him an annoyed glare and leaned up against a wall.  
  
"As you two know, Rule 51 says that if I ask for help in lifting something, you have to do it. So please move this locker down the hall into the men's locker room. Don't worry, it's empty."  
  
Scully and Reyes looked at each other, at the locker, and at the thirty feet of hallway between them and the men's room. Resigned, they rolled up their sleeves. Reyes gently tipped the locker away from the wall and Scully guided it down a little ways, with its door facing the ceiling. She was huffing and puffing. It was heavy! She finally managed to get it down to her waist, and motioned for Reyes to pick up the other end.  
  
"Empty, my ass. What's in this thing? Rocks?" Reyes puffed, picking up her side.  
  
Doggett watched with some concern as the two women did their best to heft the thing down the hallway. Scully was moving backwards, Reyes was moving forwards, and they tried to keep their steps in sync. It wasn't working very well.  
  
Skinner was running errands on the ground floor and saw the crowd. He walked over and stood next to Doggett, who filled him in. They both watched as the two women did their best to heft the locker.  
  
Finally, Scully couldn't take it anymore. They were fifteen feet down the hallway, weighed down by possibly the heaviest item on planet earth, and not making much progress.  
  
"Monica, my hands! They're slipping!"  
  
"Hang on, Dana!"  
  
"I'm gonna drop it!"  
  
"Hang on!"  
  
Scully couldn't hang on.  
  
*WHUMP!*  
  
The locker hit the floor on Scully's end, and Reyes dropped hers, too. Both women put their hands on their thighs, bent over, and took deep breaths. They were getting ready to pick up the locker again when they heard it . . .  
  
"Owww."  
  
It was more of a moan than a word. Scully's eyes got very wide and she blinked at Reyes.  
  
"Hello?" came a quiet, deep voice from inside the locker. "Can anybody hear me?"  
  
Skinner and Doggett looked at each other, and the hall went deadly quiet. Scully knew that voice like she knew her name. She leaned over the locker slots and saw a pair of hazel eyes blinking at her in the darkness.  
  
"Mulder?" she asked, in horror. "What the hell are you doing in there?"  
  
"I don't know, but it's bringing back memories of Junior High."  
  
"Oh God," she muttered, and fumbled with the door. "Hang on."  
  
Fortunately, the locker wasn't locked. She flung it open to reveal Mulder, squished inside like a large, very unhappy sardine. He was squinting up at her from the sudden burst of light. There was a crust of dried blood on his cheek and one of his pearl earrings was gone.  
  
"I'll have you out of there in a second," she said.  
  
She brought an arm around behind his back and neck and helped him pop out of the space halfway. He sat up, groggy, and rubbed his lower back. To her horror, she looked at the hand that had touched the side of his head. It was splotched with blood. She immediately leaned in to take a look at him, and he winced at her touch.  
  
"Who did this to you?" she asked.  
  
The reaction in the hall of seeing him in the locker was a mixture of shock and amusement, but Menotti was laughing so hard he was slapping his knees. A few other guys were imitating him weakly.  
  
"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say *him,*" Mulder said, pointing.  
  
And time stopped. Dana Scully whirled around in fury at Arturo Menotti, and everyone in her path scattered like chickens. Doggett and Skinner saw the anger in her eyes and moved away quickly. Even Tipper hugged the wall.  
  
Scully stomped over to Menotti, grabbed him by his collar, put all the pieces of the puzzle together, and was ready to let him have it. He was still laughing.  
  
"Aw, what? Is da itty bitty wadey mad?"  
  
"I have three things to say to you," she responded, seething. "A, you hurt my partner, so prepare to meet a gruesome, disgusting end. B," and here she grabbed Tipper by the ear, "Your little accomplice is going down with you." Tipper began to wheeze in terror.  
  
Mulder raised an eyebrow. An accomplice? He hadn't seen that. Maybe Scully had borrowed more than just his suit today.  
  
"And C," she continued, then stopped. "Menotti, I don't even *have* a C! This is harassment, this is inexcusable, and if I was a less disciplined person, I'd be pounding you into the floor right now!"  
  
"Pound me? You couldn't even lift a goddamn locker!" he retorted, his face in hers.  
  
The final line had been crossed. Scully let her pretty face contort into a hellish mask of anger. Releasing Tipper for a moment, she slammed her newly free hand across Menotti's nose, banging his head into the wall behind him and watching with pleasure as the blood flew.  
  
"Whoa! Agent Scully! Stop it!" Doggett yelled, and ran over. He dropped the ice pack and grabbed her arms to keep her from hitting Menotti again. "Reyes, watch these two, will 'ya?" he asked.  
  
Reyes came over quickly and grabbed both of the agents by the ears. They yelped. Scully broke free of Doggett's hold and ran over to help Mulder the rest of the way out of the locker.  
  
"Okay," Doggett said at this, then turned to Skinner. "Could you call A.D. Baker, tell her there's a situation we're bringing to her office?"  
  
Skinner nodded, stunned, and went for a phone.  
  
***  
  
Fifteen minutes later, at 3 o' clock, a whole gaggle of people stumbled into the Assistant Director's office, arguing with each other. Skinner, his glasses slightly askew, led the way. Doggett and Mulder came next, looking a little banged-up, but mostly irritated. Scully followed them. Reyes followed her, holding Menotti (still with a bloody nose) and Tipper by the ears. Four secretaries in suits came in after them.  
  
Holly looked a little alarmed by this procession.  
  
"Walter, close the door and stay in the room," she said.  
  
Skinner did as she asked, making himself comfortable by the door.  
  
"What happened?" Holly asked.  
  
Everybody started talking at once. She listened to the babble for about five seconds, then licked her lips and let out a very loud whistle through her teeth. Everyone stopped talking.  
  
"Thank you. Agent Scully. Please tell me what happened," Holly requested, her voice quiet and polite as ever.  
  
Scully explained, sparing no details of what had happened to Doggett and Mulder and who she insisted was responsible. Reyes and other people in the hall who had witnessed the scene were nodding their heads emphatically. Menotti looked defiant. Tipper looked like he wanted to shrivel up and blow away.  
  
Holly stared at the large group of people for a couple of seconds, and then glanced at Skinner, sitting next to the door. She looked at him gently. If there was ever a time to act like her boss, it was now. She got up from behind the desk, set her face with what she hoped was a look of power and authority, and looked at Menotti.  
  
"WELL, YOU BASTARD, WHADDAYA HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?!" she roared, scaring the hell out of everybody.  
  
He glared at her. Holly puffed herself up like a Marine and stared him down. He lost his nerve.  
  
"It --- It was just a joke," he stammered, shaking.  
  
"I'm not laughing, Menotti. I see three injured field agents in front of me. Kindly explain how this is funny."  
  
Menotti licked his lips nervously and looked at the floor. "*I* thought it was funny," he mumbled.  
  
"Of course you thought it was funny!" Holly snarled. "I'd expect nothing less from you! Did you know that I've received more complaints about you from my fellow secretaries than about all the other agents in this building put together? Your conduct towards us is disgraceful. Your harassment of your fellow agents today dishonors the spirit of this entire agency. And I will not put up with it."  
  
"Oh for Chrissakes, Holly, it was a joke. And you're just a secretary!" Menotti argued.  
  
"For the next two hours, you will address me as Assistant Director Baker, you insubordinate asshole!" Holly snapped, as everybody jumped. "And as for you, Agent Tipper, perhaps you only intended to hide behind Menotti, here, but it doesn't matter. Any idiot will tell you that it takes two people to knock out two grown men at once. I'm siding with Agent Scully. You were directly involved."  
  
Tipper quivered. Holly glared at them both. The room was still.  
  
"Agents Menotti and Tipper. On account of your atrocious behavior and submissive cowardice, respectively, you are both hereby suspended until further notice. Without pay."  
  
Skinner couldn't help it. His mouth dropped open, even as he felt a surge of pride for his secretary.  
  
"Leave your badges and weapons on the desk, and get the hell out of this office."  
  
Nobody moved.  
  
"Do it! Now!" Holly shouted.  
  
Finally, without a word, Menotti and Tipper moved forward, deposited their (unloaded) guns and badges onto the desk in front of her, and shuffled out of the room. Skinner saw them out and closed the door behind them.  
  
The room was silent for a moment.  
  
Then Mulder started to chant "Go Holly, it's your birthday, go Holly," and swing his hips around in a circle.  
  
Everyone started laughing and talking. A few minutes later, the entire party had dispersed, the X-files division and suited secretaries having thanked her for her help. Finally, only Skinner was left in the room. He closed the door and walked over to the desk. Holly looked at him with her solemn brown eyes, quivering from her burst of adrenaline, as he fingered the badges of Menotti and Tipper. He looked at her with a slight smile.  
  
"Way to go, kid. It's nice to know I have a secretary with a backbone."  
  
She smiled back broadly. Praise from the boss was worth more to her than praise from anyone else in the Bureau.  
  
"Thank you, sir," she said quietly, looking him in the eye. "I learned from the best."  
  
Skinner processed this for a second, then nodded and took his leave.  
  
***  
  
Once outside in his outer office, he was surprised to see Mulder, Doggett, Reyes, and Scully standing there, waiting for him.  
  
"Agents?" he asked.  
  
"Uh, Walter, listen. We were wondering . . ." Mulder said.  
  
"I'd love to come. Where are we going?"  
  
Mulder opened and shut his mouth a few times and looked at Scully. She smiled.  
  
"We're not sure yet," she said. "Holly told you?"  
  
"Nah. But she said she learned from me how to be tough with people. Well, I learned something from her --- I eavesdropped through the intercom," he said, looking pretty pleased with himself.  
  
"How much longer do we have to call you Walter?" Doggett asked, scratching at the healing bump on his temple. Reyes pulled his hand away.  
  
"Uh, one hour, 45 minutes and 39 --- 38 seconds."  
  
"How about if we call you Walter after work?" Mulder asked, just to be annoying.  
  
"How about I kick your butt from here to Nebraska?" Skinner replied, irritated.  
  
"How about Wally?"  
  
Skinner was starting to get steamed.  
  
"Walterina?"  
  
Scully grabbed Mulder, started to steer him out before Skinner killed him and said, "Come down to the office when you get a minute. We'll hash out some dinner plans."  
  
He nodded. "Sure."  
  
Doggett and Reyes nodded at him and the four of them left. Skinner caught Scully whispering furiously at Mulder. Shaking his head at the four of them, he went and sat down at the desk again. All in all, today was working out rather well.  
  
He didn't expect Alvin Kersh to come charging in an hour later, furious, his muumuu blotched with ink from an uncooperative copy machine . . .  
  
And hungry for the blood of Agents Fox Mulder and John Doggett.  
  
***  
  
Will Kersh kill half of the X-files division? A battle will rage in Chapter 8: "Doggett's Magic Trick." 


	8. Doggett's Magic Trick

Note: Thank you so much, as usual, for all the reviews. :D Here's the climax.  
  
***  
  
Chapter 8: "Doggett's Magic Trick."  
  
Skinner stared at Kersh, who was quite a sight in his ink-spattered muumuu.  
  
"Where are they?!" Kersh roared. "I know you know where those two idiots are, Walter! I will have their blood before the day is over!"  
  
Skinner decided to play dumb. "What the hell are you talking about?" he barked defensively.  
  
"Don't be stupid. I made Rhonda tell me everything," Kersh snarled. His hands were in fists. He slammed his knuckles down on Holly's desk and glared at Skinner. "Your little runt of a secretary let her ego get away from her."  
  
Skinner glared at him.  
  
"She ordered a videotape made of me in this ridiculous get-up. The making of said videotape carried a valuable . . ." he licked his lips nervously. "Reward. This reward was given to the agents of the X-files!"  
  
"And?" Skinner asked, apparently finding nothing wrong with this.  
  
That just inflamed Kersh. "That division is going to be shut down, if I have anything to say about it!"  
  
"Alvin!" came a yell from outside.  
  
Kersh turned around to see Brad Follmer coming in, a little out of breath. He looked ridiculous in his dress. Skinner eyed it carefully and then started to smirk, because he remembered it. It was that slinky, strappy, red thing from Penny's. The dress that Doggett had tossed out of the stall. He'd been unable to untangle the straps and put it on.  
  
Much to Follmer's misfortune, he had figured it out. It fell to mid-thigh, and was so low-cut it revealed some of his curly blond chest hair. He hadn't shaved his legs. His feet were squished into too-small black flats, and a shimmery black sheath covered his fleshy shoulders. He looked like a prostitute on Valentine's Day.  
  
Skidding to a halt, he announced, "They're down in the basement! Let's go!"  
  
Kersh shot one final cold glance at Skinner and dashed out the door with Follmer. Skinner was very irritated --- and very confused. Follmer had somehow weaseled his way into Kersh's good graces. But for what purpose? And suddenly it hit him. Kersh knew *exactly* what the reward had been, and he'd told Follmer.  
  
They were after the card.  
  
"Oh, hell no," Skinner muttered, reaching for his desk phone. "It's my damn dinner, too. No frickin' way."  
  
***  
  
The basement was abuzz with activity. Everybody was skittering here and there, grabbing files from each other and sitting down at their respective computers to bang out the paperwork and get everything done. They were resolved to leave with nothing on their minds so they could fully enjoy themselves that evening.  
  
The phone rang. Mulder grabbed it.  
  
"X-files division. Mulder speak--- . . . Sir? Sir, calm down. . . . *WALTER.* There. 'Ya happy? . . . Good. What's going on? . . . Okay. . . . Yeah. . . . Consider us gone. Thank you."  
  
He hung up. Everybody was looking at him, interested.  
  
"That was Skinner," Mulder said, licking his lower lip. "Kersh is apparently out to kill Doggett and myself, and Follmer is with him."  
  
"Brad's coming, too?" Reyes asked, her brow creasing. "This isn't right."  
  
"No kidding. Skinner thinks they want the card."  
  
"Well I'll tell you right now, they're not gettin' it," Doggett announced, annoyed. "We've been through so much shit today. . ."  
  
"Right. Which means we have to leave. All of us."  
  
"Why can't we just stay and fight them for it?" Reyes asked, surprising everybody.  
  
Mulder stared at her. "Agent Reyes, are you okay?"  
  
"I've never been better in my life," she snapped, her temper rising. "But this is garbage! What right do they have to take this away from us? You and John worked hard for it, and I say we should all defend it."  
  
"Monica, fighting isn't the answer!" Scully said. "I can't believe I'm saying this to *you,* of all people. John, say something, would you?"  
  
"Uh," Doggett began, "Well, Dana's right. Besides --- we can't risk confrontation with these people. If we kick their asses, they could fire all of us."  
  
Reyes' mouth twitched in amusement. "What makes you think we can kick their asses?"  
  
"Four against two. Simple as that."  
  
"BUT," Mulder interjected, startling everybody, "An ass-kicking, while satisfying, won't solve anything. We have to leave. Now."  
  
Everybody nodded (or grumbled) their assent and they made for the closed door. Mulder swung it open and the entire X-files division stopped dead in its tracks.  
  
Kersh and Follmer were standing right there, looking at the four agents coldly.  
  
"Oh shit," Mulder muttered, and started backing away.  
  
He bumped into Scully, who was standing behind him. Reyes, who was standing slightly in front of Doggett, looked at Follmer's get-up and had quite the opposite reaction --- she started laughing. He turned brick-red.  
  
"What are you laughing at, Agent Reyes?" he asked sternly.  
  
"I can't believe you! You look like a whore!" she said, hooting with laughter and clapping her hands. "Hee hee! Oh, I am SO glad John couldn't figure out that dress!"  
  
Scully stared at her and started to smile. "That was the one that landed on you at Penny's?"  
  
Reyes was nodding and giggling.  
  
"This dress has been ON John Doggett?!" Follmer screeched.  
  
"Aw, don't be such a wuss, Follmer! I only got it on half-way!" Doggett said, starting to laugh too. "Besides, at least it's more form-fitting than *that* thing," he commented, pointing at Kersh.  
  
He snickered for a few seconds before he realized that the room had gone completely silent. Then he quickly lost his grin and stilled his vocal chords.  
  
"You can consider this division shut down, Agent Doggett," Kersh sneered. "That videotape will the hanging rope of all of you!"  
  
"What videotape?" Mulder asked, calmly. Unlike the other three, he'd been keeping his eyes on their adversaries. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"You know damn well what I'm talking about! I made Rhonda tell me what happened, Agent Mulder, so don't even try to lie to me."  
  
"Do you have a copy of the videotape?" Mulder asked.  
  
Kersh narrowed his eyes at him. "No."  
  
"So basically, what you saw was a man with a video camera. This man, in fact," he said, pointing at Doggett, "And me. You hit Doggett a couple of times . . . for nothing. I'll tell you a secret, Alvin. The camera had nothing in it."  
  
"That's a load!"  
  
"There could have been Swiss cheese in the tape compartment, and you wouldn't have known!" Mulder said, puffing himself up and letting his voice boom.  
  
"Shut up! I know that you two not only made that tape, but Holly gave you the Bureau credit card for the evening for doing it! Now I've had enough of this nonsense. Nobody tarnishes with my reputation, Agent, and you know I have the power to shut down this division. But," and here Kersh softened his glance, trying to appear magnanimous, "I'm willing to make an exchange. If you give me the credit card and all copies of the videotape, I will spare your pathetic jobs."  
  
"Agent Mulder and Agent Doggett did nothing wrong!" Reyes cut in angrily. "This is a baseless accusation. All you have is hearsay! You say an order was given. Were you in the room when the order came? No. You say they put you on videotape. Did you get a look at the camera? No."  
  
"She's right," Scully said, catching on. "And here's your kick in the pants, gentlemen. Tomorrow, the person who gave them the order will no longer be an Assistant Director. The order was verbal. There's no paper trail. No evidence. No proof." She smiled coldly. "Sound familiar?"  
  
Doggett, in the back, was absently fingering a spot on his blouse, right above the waist of his skirt. The credit card was still safe in there.  
  
"Stop playing mind games with us!" Follmer said, annoyed. "That credit card was obtained through illegal channels, from someone who was not authorized to dole it out, with a stunt intended to humiliate the Deputy Director. And we demand it back."  
  
Doggett frowned. "We?" he asked. "You and Kersh got a hot date tonight, or something?"  
  
And Follmer snapped. First Monica, his old flame, had laughed at him in his outfit. And now, here was an insult from the man he considered to be a human scab.  
  
"You ASSHOLE!" he yelled, shoving Scully and Reyes to either side, and pounced on Doggett.  
  
It was a bit of a mismatch. Doggett, while tough and lean, weighed a bit less than Follmer, so the other man quickly got the upper hand. He just flomped on top of Doggett like the world's heaviest bean bag, and tried to squish all the breath out of him. It was working.  
  
Doggett was kicking his legs out and cursing under Follmer's weight. Mulder jumped in to help, and managed to dragged Follmer off. Reyes got up. Scully pulled herself to her feet and stared at Kersh menacingly. And Doggett, grunting, lashed out and kicked his opponent's shin.  
  
Follmer howled in pain and elbowed Mulder in the gut. Mulder crouched and cursed, holding his stomach, and Follmer made for Doggett again. There was no one to stop him now except . . .  
  
Reyes. She got right in her ex's face, furious, her dark eyes flashing. Nobody attacked her partner. Not even a higher-up. She smashed her knee into his groin and dropped him like a stone. But she wasn't emotion-free -- - she winced for him.  
  
He fell, moaning, and landed on the floor next to Mulder, who was trying to get his abdomen back in order. Reyes knelt and grabbed Follmer by the arm. Scully helped Doggett to his feet and noticed that Kersh was just watching the scene, way too calmly for her taste. It seemed as though he was looking for a signal of some kind.  
  
And he got it. Follmer, his eyes full of pain, looked at Kersh and sealed Doggett's fate.  
  
"He . . . has . . . it," he wheezed, and stuck out his chin at Doggett. "In . . . his . . . blouse."  
  
Doggett had about a second to realize that Follmer must have felt the rectangular shape when he landed on him, before Kersh was running at him, letting loose a battle cry. Scully was again flung aside, and landed on her ass. Doggett and Kersh hit the floor in a heap of twisting limbs, bulging veins, and angry faces, wrestling around and yelling at each other.  
  
Doggett held the Deputy Director off with a palm under the other man's chin, cursed everything under the sun, and tried to kick his way free. Kersh, in response, sat on Doggett's knees to still his legs. He grabbed the front of his opponent's white blouse, and pulled.  
  
*SSSHHKK!*  
  
The blouse was ripped clear off of Doggett, and the force of the pull sent the credit card flying. By some miracle, the agent caught it in one hand and punched Kersh with the other.  
  
Kersh roared like a prehistoric lizard, and flattened one huge hand on Doggett's chest to pin him down. Doggett squirmed, uselessly stretching his arm out to keep the card away from Kersh. Kersh's arm went the distance. He grabbed the card with a feral grin.  
  
He got no warning at all.  
  
"NOOOOOO!" Scully yelled, swooping in out of nowhere. She tackled him, throwing him off Doggett, and the two of them tumbled across the cement floor.  
  
The card escaped Kersh's grip and fluttered down, right in the middle of everybody. Scully, sitting on him, saw it float down to the floor. Doggett, on his back, saw it too. Mulder, holding his side and starting to stand up, stared. Follmer, who was getting his strength back and starting to struggle against Reyes's grip, watched its every feathery move.  
  
There was a brief pause, as it settled. And then everyone scrambled for it, butting heads, shouting like maniacs, and shoving each other. The end result, after thirty seconds or so, was that no one was holding the damn thing.  
  
But Doggett was patient. He hung back, waited for his opportunity, and then, quick as lightning, he wiggled under the twisting, colliding bodies above him and snatched the card.  
  
And in two seconds he was gone. Just a flash of yellow skirt and tanned skin, clutching the silver ticket to paradise desperately in his right hand. His left was busy, trying to pull Reyes's gun. He sprinted down the hallway, his bare chest heaving, his muscular legs pumping, and his heels clicking loudly on the cement. He made a beeline for the stairs up to the first floor.  
  
"He's got the card!" Kersh screamed, pointing, and the fight broke up momentarily.  
  
Follmer gritted his teeth, shook off Reyes, and ran after Doggett, yelling at him to stop. He bounded along, pulling his gun. Mulder ran after Follmer, holding his side and wincing, but he knew he was in no shape to catch up.  
  
Scully and Reyes pulled weapons on Kersh. He blinked at them. However, he had enough sense not to move. After a bit, they led him down the hall, where it looked like the chase was coming to a close.  
  
Follmer had his back to them, and his gun pointed at Doggett. Doggett's blue eyes were shifting like a caged animal's. Unable to draw Reyes's weapon in time, he'd been stopped just before the door to the stairs.  
  
Mulder was behind them, trying to get Scully's gun out of the holster at his back and failing, because it seemed to be stuck. Scully rolled her eyes.  
  
"Come on, Agent Doggett," Follmer said. "Just drop the card, and nobody gets hurt."  
  
Doggett looked around, weary, heaving for breath. He'd found out through the grapevine that Scully and Reyes had put up with some nasty emotional crap today. They'd been hurt. He recalled the incident that he and Mulder had had with Menotti. They'd been hurt, too. Everybody had gotten hurt. *This is no fucking good at all,* he thought. There was only one thing to do.  
  
"Drop the card?" he asked Follmer.  
  
"Drop the card," came the command.  
  
"Okay," he said. "You're the boss."  
  
And with one swift motion, he stretched out the waistband of his remaining clothes, and "dropped" the card.  
  
Straight into his underwear.  
  
There was a collective gasp as he threw a steely-eyed glance at Follmer and Kersh. They could only stare at him in shock. Follmer lowered his weapon.  
  
"Oh fuck!" he yelled, thoroughly annoyed.  
  
"Go to hell," Doggett replied. "Both of you. Monica, Dana, you okay?"  
  
The women nodded at him, mute with shock.  
  
"How about you, Mulder?"  
  
"Well, I may have to rinse out my eyes after what I just witnessed, but yeah, I'm okay."  
  
He turned to their superiors. Scully and Reyes had taken their guns off Kersh. There was no way this was going any further.  
  
"Feel free to leave any time, you two," Reyes said.  
  
Their faces blank, Follmer and Kersh headed towards the elevators, defeated. The X-files division watched them go with stern faces and straight postures. Doggett crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw. Reyes saw the muscles in his neck ripple.  
  
The doors closed. The light disappeared, indicating the elevator car had gone.  
  
"Thank God they left," Scully, muttered, holstering her temporary weapon.  
  
Reyes did the same. "Yeah," she agreed.  
  
"Okay," Mulder said. "I have to know, Doggett. Did the card go between skin and briefs, or briefs and hose? Because it looked like skin and briefs."  
  
Everybody was looking at Doggett, preparing their features for looks of disgust. But after a pause, he broke into a grin and started to laugh.  
  
"It was briefs and hose. I wasn't about to give anybody nightmares. See?" He tugged on the skirt, and pulled the hem of the hose away, leaving his underwear where it was. Fishing around for a second, he pulled the card out of its spot, where it had been safely tucked just over his right hip.  
  
"The damn tights finally came in handy!" he commented.  
  
Stony silence exploded into loud cheers and laughter. Reyes tousled his hair and squeezed his shoulder. Scully and Mulder were relieved, and complimented him on his rather ingenious solution to the stand-off.  
  
Doggett handed the card to Reyes, and they went to go pick up his tattered blouse in the office. Mulder turned to Scully with a smile.  
  
"All's well that ends well," he said.  
  
"At least for us," she replied. "We've got the card, and Kersh and Follmer have absolutely no case against you and Doggett! For once, they'll be the ones without proof."  
  
Mulder beamed. They embraced and gently bumped the wall.  
  
"I love you," he mumbled into her hair.  
  
"Shh," she said. "The walls have ears."  
  
Mulder quickly jumped away from where they were, breaking the embrace.  
  
"Not that particular wall, Mulder," Scully finished, annoyed. "Don't be an idiot."  
  
"Oh, sorry. Is this better?" he asked, grabbing her again and squeezing her gently.  
  
She laughed and protested "Mulder!" into his chest, but didn't break the embrace.  
  
The elevator dinged.  
  
The moment evaporated like steam. Alarmed, they let go of each other. Scully drew Mulder's weapon. Then she unstuck her own at his back and handed it to him. Reyes and Doggett peeked out of the office, but Mulder shooed them back in. He and Scully ducked low and made their way through some rows of iron shelves to the elevator.  
  
The door was just closing. Someone had gotten out. But who?  
  
Mulder and Scully gave each other a look and fanned out. Mulder tiptoed down the darkened aisles of shelves, and found nothing. But Scully followed footsteps to her right. They were far away, but then they turned and came back in her direction. She hid around a corner.  
  
3, 2, 1, she counted to herself, then jumped out, gun drawn.  
  
"Freeze!"  
  
She almost gave Skinner a heart attack. He yelled in surprise and took a few breaths.  
  
"Oh, si --- Walter. I'm so sorry," she said, lowering her weapon. "We just had a bit of a situation down here. Mulder! You can come out, it's just Skinner! Agent Doggett! Agent Reyes! All clear!"  
  
The basement came to life, with three pairs of feet pounding in Skinner's direction. The four agents looked a little banged-up from their day, which was drawing to a close. Doggett's blouse was hanging off of him in loose tatters.  
  
"Don't tell me Kersh got the card," Skinner said.  
  
"Don't worry," Doggett said. "He didn't."  
  
As proof, Reyes showed it to him.  
  
"Great. I miss anything special?"  
  
"Just Doggett doing a magic trick with his underwear," Mulder said, and everybody laughed.  
  
"I take it I'll find out about this later," Skinner said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Not if I can help it," Doggett replied, with all the dignity he could muster.  
  
Reyes snickered and gently took his arm. He smiled at her.  
  
"Well, if everything's cleared up, then I guess the only question remaining is . . . where are we going to dinner?"  
  
***  
  
The clock struck five.  
  
Lucky was whistling. He took off his blonde wig, twirled it around for effect, and sent it sailing into the air. It landed on Tipper's monitor at his empty station.  
  
"Ah," he breathed, scratching his head of wavy red hair. "Free at last, free at last! Wheee!"  
  
He grabbed his handbag, now with a ring box tucked safely inside it, and sauntered out the door of the office, feeling pretty good. Not three feet down the hallway, he tripped in his heels and fell over on his face.  
  
***  
  
Skinner was packing up his workstation, feeling pleased with himself. He'd actually gotten all the work done that he needed to. It had been a while since he'd had to flex his fingers over the keyboard like that. Holly came out of his office and started to close the door, hoisting up her pant legs.  
  
"Well, it's five," she commented quietly, turning towards him. "I guess I can start calling you 'sir' again."  
  
"I suppose you can," he said.  
  
"And I tidied up your desk. Hopefully you'll still be able to find stuff."  
  
A small set of keys clinked as she laid them down on the desk in front of him. The keys to his inner office. He picked them up, fingering them absently.  
  
"Thanks, Holly."  
  
"You're welcome, sir. I'll get the suit dry cleaned, too. See you on Monday."  
  
She was just starting to walk away when she heard his voice behind her.  
  
"Holly?"  
  
She turned. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Tell me honestly. How did I do?"  
  
"You did fine, sir," she said, smiling a little. "I couldn't have asked for a better substitute."  
  
He looked at her keenly. "You're a terrible liar, Holly. Have you seen the reports I did today?"  
  
"Yes," she said, cringing slightly.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And . . . I can fix it, sir. It'll all be okay."  
  
Skinner hung his head with a sigh. Holly went over to him.  
  
"Oh sir, don't be upset! You were extremely out of your element. It's not like tagging and coding things is your normal workload. Considering the circumstances, you did the best you could."  
  
That didn't seem to cheer him up any, so she tried another tactic.  
  
"You're a good Assistant Director, sir. And I'm a good secretary. That's why I'm out here, and you're in there. And believe me, I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm not so sure I did too well today, myself."  
  
He finally looked up at her. She smiled gently, coaxing one out of him.  
  
"You did very well," he said. "You made me proud. Listen, Holly, I'm going out to dinner with some friends tonight. Would you like to come?"  
  
"Oh, wow! Uh, I'm flattered, sir, but I can't. I have a date," she said, blushing.  
  
"Really! Well, have fun."  
  
"Thanks," she said, with a shy laugh. "Have a great weekend, sir."  
  
"All right," he said, as she left, and shook his head. Things were definitely back to normal.  
  
***  
  
Rhonda was packing up her desk, dumping all her little knickknacks into a box and gathering up her plant. Kersh was watching from his door, leaning on the jam and watching her work.  
  
"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you apply yourself so single- mindedly to any task since you've been here. Have fun in Accounting."  
  
Rhonda stopped packing and looked up at him. "Why aren't you firing me? I mean, you can. You could just dump my butt in the street and not think twice about it."  
  
"Of course I could 'dump your butt in the street,'" he said, annoyed. "I'd prefer, however, to give you a one-way ticket to secretarial Hell. Accounting gives the toughest work loads and the least respect. It will either mold you, or break you. Perhaps it'll make you learn to shut your mouth and type faster. Either way, you will never be coming up here again. I guarantee it."  
  
He turned, his muumuu flowing around his ankles, and walked into his office. The door slammed behind him. Rhonda stood there in her banana yellow suit, with her cardboard box, and looked at the door. She flipped it the bird.  
  
Then she went to her desk, fished out a video tape marked simply "Kersh," and tossed it into her box with a smile.  
  
"Yeah, but I gotcha," she muttered to herself. "Gotcha where it counts."  
  
She turned and walked out of the office with a grin, secure in leaving it behind, and began to rip off her tie in the hallway. Rhonda was happy to be moving on. After all, there were some folks you just couldn't talk to. And some relationships you just couldn't fix.  
  
So it didn't dim her dimpled smile to recollect, based on Holly's tally, that besides a few nice people she'd known for years, there were at least six handsome, single young men in Accounting. If she had any luck, (and she figured she was entitled to some), in a few months, Holly wouldn't be the only secretary at HQ with a steamy little secret.  
  
***  
  
So the day is over. But the night is young! There's a party goin' on in the conclusion of Thrill Switch. Hang on for Chapter Nine: "Two-Step." 


	9. Luck And The Single Guy

Author's Note: Okay, I goofed. The last chapter I wrote was huge, so I split it in two. Here's Chapter 9. Chapter 10, which is still called "Two- Step," is coming soon!  
  
Warning --- major Doggett-Reyes U.S.T., otherwise known as T.E.A.S.I.N.G, ahead.  
  
***  
  
Chapter 9: "Luck And The Single Guy."  
  
5:30 PM  
  
Falls Church, VA  
  
Doggett couldn't help it. He moaned. It was supposed to come out as an "ah," a sigh of relief. But instead he produced an "unnnhh," his eyes tilting up in his head like a Baroque saint in ecstasy.  
  
Reyes was amused by this. They were both on her partner's bed, she sitting Indian-style, he laying down, in a t-shirt from his drawer. He'd had just enough energy to remove his skirt and heels. She'd taken off the jacket and shoes she was wearing, and then she'd started in on this little "project." Grinning, she clipped air with her scissors.  
  
"Bet that felt good, huh?"  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
"Let me get the other side."  
  
"Mmm."  
  
She reached her scissors down and cut the elastic on the other side of the waist of his hose. He moaned again. All the pressure was gone. He just lay there, limp, as she got off the bed and stood at the edge. She reached forward, grabbed hold of the material, and dragged the now useless pantyhose down over his butt, thighs, calves, and feet. She made a big show of flinging the things across the room.  
  
He lay there, now clad only in his underwear and a shirt, and felt . . . relaxed. Normally, he knew he would be really nervous about a woman seeing him in his underwear, particularly briefs, but with Reyes it was oddly comfortable.  
  
He smiled at her, his blue eyes warm and clear as an August sky. She smiled back, her chocolate ones burrowing into him. He flexed his feet and wiggled his toes to show his appreciation. Amused, she spent a few seconds batting at them, but then she looked at his waist and frowned.  
  
"The hose left a little red mark on you," she said. "Right . . . there."  
  
She leaned forward and poked his waist gently. He squirmed, and since she was hovering over him, he poked her in the same place. She let out a little shriek and pulled away.  
  
"Ticklish?" he asked.  
  
"No," she answered, much too quickly.  
  
He snorted. "Uh huh."  
  
"How are your legs?" she asked, changing the subject.  
  
"They're . . ." he struggled to pull his head up and look at them. "Shaved. Thanks for asking." His head flomped back onto the pillow.  
  
She started laughing. "It grows back, John. And in case I haven't told you enough, I thought you made a 'killer chick' today."  
  
"Gee, thanks. Just what a guy needs to hear. 'You look fantastic in a dress!'"  
  
"Well, you did!" she said, giggling. "Do your legs still work, by the way?"  
  
"I don't know. My calves are on fire, so I guess that means I still have sensation. But those heels? Man. I don't know how you do it. Day after day . . ." He trailed off.  
  
"Aw, poor baby. Here, let me help."  
  
She cracked her knuckles. This alarmed him a little bit. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch her, ready to yell "stop" at whatever she was about to do. This was one of the more interesting traits of Monica Reyes --- he rarely knew what to expect from her.  
  
Finally, she held out her hands to him. He took them cautiously, but let her pull him into a sitting position, then watched as she clambered up on the edge of the bed, perching on her knees, his feet up against her thighs. She pulled toward herself gently, stretching his back. Doggett heard his spine make a few satisfying popping noises.  
  
A few minutes later, he was standing on one leg, leaning on her for balance.  
  
"That's it," she said. "Flex your foot. Now point your toes. Flex. Point."  
  
She helped him stretch his calves and then let him lean on her again to stretch his thighs. He held onto her without reservation, but kept his eyes pointedly on the ground, so as not look at her, lose his grip, and fall over.  
  
Their physical proximity was already screwing him up in the most delightful way. He was getting drunk from the soapy smell of her hair, and the intoxicating smell of her skin, a heady mixture of oregano and smoke. Her flesh was the color of bronze, the texture of velvet. And she was wearing one of his shirts.  
  
He gulped.  
  
But this was no time to lose control. He cleared his throat, planted both feet firmly on the ground, put on his most polite face, and smiled at her.  
  
"Thanks a lot, Mon. That really helped. I'm gonna get changed. Where are we meeting them again?"  
  
"The Supper Club," Reyes said, crossing her arms and unabashedly admiring the rear view as her partner padded into the adjoining bathroom. "It's that trendy new place downtown. And since I don't live here . . . I'll have to go back to my apartment to get ready."  
  
Doggett poked his head out the door, a toothbrush in his mouth. "Ya need a lift?" he asked. It came out like, "Eed a litht?" Then he ducked back in.  
  
"John, I came in my car. Remember?" she said, smiling.  
  
Honestly, Sherlock Holmes, the man was not. She grabbed her purse from the bureau and emptied it out onto Doggett's bed. Much to her amusement, all that fell out was Doggett's wallet, his keys, and a fresh travel pack of Kleenex.  
  
"It's not fair," she commented. "How in the hell can men pack so light?"  
  
Doggett came out of the bathroom, toweling his face off. Apparently he hadn't heard her. "Listen, Monica, it's not a problem. I can just pull on a pair of pants and drive you."  
  
"No, John, it's okay. Really. I've got my car. I just need to get changed."  
  
"Okay, then," he said with a little shrug. "Just, uh, if you could, toss my suit in a bag whenever you get the time, and . . ."  
  
"Take it to the dry cleaners?"  
  
He laughed. "No! I don't wanna put you out. Just bring it back to my place, or I'll go to yours . . ." he sighed, halfway to the dresser.  
  
And then he turned to her. The streetlamp outside caught all the right shadows on him, showing off a remarkably fit body under that t-shirt and briefs. His voice shifted from its usual tough guy rasp to pure Georgia smoke.  
  
"Of course, if you spent more time *here,* we wouldn't have this problem."  
  
Reyes looked at him for a moment. And then the Harlequin-esque scene was broken by laughter --- hers from disbelief, his from nervousness.  
  
"John Doggett, you are the most ungraceful flirt I have ever seen," Reyes said, then walked over to him, narrowing her eyes and licking her lips. "I guess I'll just have to teach you how to do a better job."  
  
"I guess you will," he said quietly, giving her a little grin. "Pick 'ya up?" he asked, brushing past her gently as he headed for the bathroom again.  
  
"Sure. When?"  
  
"I dunno. Quarter of seven? You don't live that far from Downtown," he replied, from behind the door.  
  
"Sounds good," she said, grabbing her purse and starting off. "All right, well, I'm off."  
  
"See you later!" he called, and she left.  
  
***  
  
Reyes decided not to ponder why she was so disappointed as she walked down the stairs, away from him. So that was John Doggett, really and truly off- duty. Funny, comfortable with himself, and obviously comfortable with her.  
  
But that remark he made in the lamplight. . .  
  
It wouldn't leave her alone. Now she understood Scully's dilemma with Mulder's famous innuendo. There was so much room for misinterpretation!  
  
She didn't know whether push this with her partner or let it go, to head it off at the pass or run with it. Then again, there was no time for running of any kind right now, except to her uptown loft, where her clothes and make-up were. She stepped on the gas and sped away, picking out an outfit in her head and praying that what she came up with was actually clean and hanging in her closet.  
  
***  
  
Doggett concentrated on cleaning himself up, and tried really hard to hide the fact that he felt rejected. He couldn't even figure out why. He'd just seen that glazed look in her eyes and made a stupid joke to lighten things up.  
  
"Oh, who am I kidding?" he muttered. "I didn't make a stupid joke. I made a pass at her. It was wrong, I know. She's my partner. She doesn't need that crap. I blame my Y-chromosome. But damned if she didn't respond!"  
  
This pleasant thought buzzed through his head for some minutes, while he laid out a few different shirts, until it was obliterated by the terrifying "what if."  
  
"What if . . . Oh, no. What if she only shot that back at me because she thought I was joking? What if she doesn't know . . . how I feel about her?"  
  
He held up a few dress shirts to himself.  
  
"It's third and eleven," he muttered, then started rambling. "Tight game tonight, folks! And here we go! John makes a pass at Monica. Monica catches, laughs, makes a pass back at John, who catches smoothly.  
  
And he breaks away! The crowd's going nuts! He's charging his way up the field, the endzone in sight, when WHAM! Oooh, and he goes down like a brick! Tackled by his own self-doubt and fear! That's gotta hurt, Hank. Let's go to instant replay."  
  
Finally, he decided on his dark blue polo shirt and brown slacks. He scratched his head, walking over to his dresser, and pulled out socks and a pair of boxers before getting his shirt off. He just hoped this was the sort of thing to wear to a trendy dining place, when he remembered the sweater. She'd given it to him a few years back --- it brought out his eyes, she said. It was deep green and looked good with the pants. He grabbed it from the closet, crouched, and hunted for his brown shoes like a man obsessed.  
  
He had to figure out what the hell had just gone on between the two of them.  
  
***  
  
ALSO 5:30 PM  
  
Alexandria, VA  
  
Mulder was sighing. He was still dressed from the day, from jacket to skirt, and splayed on his couch. Scully was pillowing his feet in her lap. His shoes were gone and his eyes were closed. Scully was smiling to herself as she massaged his arches, remembering the many times Mulder had done the same for her.  
  
"Scully, I don't know if I've ever told you this, but I commend you for walking in heels," he said.  
  
She started to laugh. "Well, I commend you for managing yourself so well today. You did a good job on the paperwork, for once."  
  
"It wasn't a big deal. Hey, look, I'm sorry about always dumping it on you. I know it's a pain in the ass. I probably ought to do more of it."  
  
"Yep," she said.  
  
There was a pause. Her hands stilled.  
  
"I didn't say you could stop rubbing," he said.  
  
Scully put on her famous, dour, "You're a dead man," look.  
  
Then she tickled his feet. He shrieked like a small child and swung his legs away, and she laughed. In response, he moved quickly and defiantly into her personal space, and kissed her. She sighed under his lips. But then she grabbed his neck and kept it going for a little while.  
  
"Mmmmrrr?" she asked, finally.  
  
"Uh?"  
  
"Weemnop."  
  
He broke away, laughing. "What?"  
  
"We have to stop," she repeated, giggling and wiping her lips. "I have to get changed, and you REALLY have to get changed."  
  
He moaned and sat up properly. "What time are we meeting them?"  
  
"Seven, for dinner," she replied, getting up. "And I'm hungry already!"  
  
"Oh, I got what you want right here," Mulder said, teasing her.  
  
"Ha ha." She grabbed her coat by the door. "Are you picking me up?"  
  
"I'll be there at six forty. How's that?"  
  
"Perfect. I'll see you then."  
  
She started to walk away, then stopped, annoyed. She turned around to see her partner sitting on the couch, staring at her.  
  
"Mulder? Are you staring at my rear end again?"  
  
He thought for a second. "Yes."  
  
Scully smiled. "Good boy."  
  
She turned back around and left, closing the door behind her. Mulder got up with a grin, shed his clothes, and headed for the shower.  
  
They were going to have some fun tonight.  
  
***  
  
9 PM  
  
Marty's Bistro  
  
Table 4  
  
Luke Pendrell, when not in make-up and a dress, was considered a decently good-looking guy by most of the women in the Bureau. He took no notice of this, since he didn't consider himself particularly handsome. But he was "spoken for" nonetheless. The last three years had been very good to him. And tonight, he was going to make everything official. He hoped. Sitting here at a table in a small bistro on the waterfront, alone for the moment, he ran through his little speech in his head one more time. This would be his only opportunity to calm down and "rehearse," because his date was in the bathroom.  
  
He sighed, ran his fingers through his wavy red hair, cut not too short and not too long, and glanced at himself in the window. The darkness outside gave him a nice reflection. His light blue dress shirt was neat and hugged his well-formed shoulders. Below the level of the table, he smoothed his tan slacks and straightened the leather belt around his trim waist. He anxiously looked in the window again. His eyes, big and blue, stood out against the pale peach of his freckly skin. He fingered his narrow nose and wondered for the thousandth time how he'd gotten so . . . lucky.  
  
"Fer chrissake, I'm just a short little Irish computer nerd. What on earth is she doing with me?" he muttered.  
  
Then suddenly, it hit him. It didn't matter 'what on earth.' It simply was. And there was no room for doubt anymore. No time for second- guessing. Because here she was at the table again, sitting down primly, and looking at him with her large brown eyes.  
  
"Dinner was great," she said, and picked up her wine glass. "This is such a nice place."  
  
"Yeah," he said, still lost in thought.  
  
"Lucky? You okay, honey?" she asked, and took a sip. "You look a little nervous."  
  
"No, I'm fine," he replied, fingering the box in his pants pocket.  
  
It was now or never. He was about to ask the most difficult question of his life. And he was about to ask it of Holly Baker.  
  
"Holly, listen," he said. "I've been putting this off all night, and I . . ." His vocal chords failed him.  
  
"Lucky?" Holly asked, concerned.  
  
Lucky got down on one knee. Holly gasped and nearly spilled her drink. The few customers still in the restaurant started to stare. A few waiters had been watching Lucky all evening. They peeked out from the kitchen doors, waiting to see what would happen. The restaurant was growing quiet.  
  
Lucky felt his palms start to sweat. He was about to open his mouth, tell her that in spite of his nickname he never felt lucky at all, and then he met her, blah blah blah.  
  
He looked at her. Her cute, round face was properly shadowed in the dim light. Her great brown eyes gazed at him gently. And she smiled, a sweet grin that nobody at the office ever saw. Her eyes were twinkling, brimming with emotion. She knew what was coming. She knew her answer. She blushed furiously and cupped her hands over her face, just tickled to death.  
  
He grinned at her, his heart hammering and stomach churning. And then he realized, bowing his head in panic, that the sight of this woman had made him forget what he wanted to say. He couldn't even look up at her, until he felt the feathery touch of fingers under his chin. They were drawing his face up and up, towards her. He looked into her eyes.  
  
"Lucky," she said. "Say it."  
  
And his nervousness dissolved into laughing and shaking his head at this whole crazy thing. It would all be okay. He could tell from the way she looked at him. So he blew out a breath, and took his chance.  
  
"Holly, I love you," he said simply. "Will you marry me?" he asked, and showed her the ring.  
  
She didn't even look at it, just made herself at home in his eyes, and whispered "Yes" with a big smile. Tears were tracing their way down her cheeks. She glowed.  
  
Lucky's hands were shaking like hell, so she put the ring on herself as he fumbled for the table's edge. He stood up, only to stumble back when she got up and threw her arms around him, whispering "Yes, Yes, Yes," over and over in his ear.  
  
They kissed, only breaking apart when they realized that the tiny crowd watching them was whooping it up and congratulating them. Lucky gave the crowd an embarrassed, goofy smile, which made Holly laugh. A few of the waiters kicked up a tune and everyone in the place started to dance.  
  
Holly dried her tears against Lucky's chest, Lucky tested his lungs by breathing in Holly's hair, and they both found their legs and took to the floor, happy and full of love.  
  
***  
  
So Lucky got lucky, and Holly got her man. Yay! But what's become of our favorite Feds? Find out in Chapter 10 (and this really is the last chapter, I promise): "Two-Step." 


	10. Two Step

Author's note: Well, this is it, folks. The final installment. *sniff sniff* I'm so sad to have to finish, but this story needs to end on a high note, I think.  
  
So here we go. Chapter Ten.  
  
***  
  
Chapter Ten: "Two-Step."  
  
10:13 PM  
  
The Supper Club, Downtown D.C.  
  
It was one of the bigger tables in the place, and five very satisfied federal agents were leaning back from it.  
  
"Oh my God," Reyes said, patting her stomach. "I can't believe I ate so much."  
  
Everybody laughed, because Reyes hardly looked like she'd eaten at all. Doggett was just amazed she could still speak, after the meal they'd had.  
  
The restaurant of the club, which featured a multi-national menu, was renowned for its Italian portion, and everyone had ordered from it. Mulder and Scully had split a medium lasagna. Skinner had ordered the fettucine Alfredo. Reyes had ordered something with angel hair pasta and shrimp. Doggett didn't eat out much, so he went with the spaghetti and meatballs, because that was the only thing he recognized.  
  
On top of that, there was perfectly dressed salad, breadsticks, and good red wine that just kept coming and coming. There was dessert for the table --- five expensive slices of different, rich kinds of cake, each accompanied with an appropriately flavored scoop of ice cream. And now they were all having coffee.  
  
Doggett looked around at their now properly-dressed party. Reyes's strappy, knee-length dress was the color of her hot mocha, and she'd "accidentally" brushed his legs with one of her high-heeled, knee-high tan boots at least four times tonight. The fake fur coat she wore into the place hung off the back of her chair, and her skin glowed in the dim light.  
  
Scully had chosen a flirty little black number with matching heels, which made a striking contrast with her pale skin and blue eyes. It also contrasted nicely with Mulder, who was sitting next to her comfortably, with one arm around her bare shoulders. He'd gone about the level of casual that Doggett had, with an olive turtleneck and deep brown slacks. The light made his hazel eyes look green.  
  
Skinner was also dressed appropriately, and seemed to be perfectly happy without anyone's arm around him. He took a lazy sip of his red wine. The color in the glass refracted in the light and brought out the rose in his cheeks. Nobody at work realized he had rosy cheeks, because he was usually stern-faced or yelling. But when he was laughing and drinking with friends, as he was tonight, they were plainly visible, twin red lanterns proclaiming that he wasn't old just yet.  
  
Doggett stirred his cappuccino and looked at the dance floor. The DJ had been spinning everything from the Rolling Stones to Bird and Dizzy, and people had been out on the wood for an hour now. But the Feds at table 42 were still lounging around and talking, having gleefully stuffed themselves with fine food. All the fees, including the exorbitant entrance price per head, were going to the FBI.  
  
He looked at the woman next to him and stood up. The others stared.  
  
"Agent Reyes, would you care to dance?" he asked, and he held out his hand.  
  
She took it with a smile, stood, and the two of them went out on the dance floor. There was a "Whooo!" behind them, and Doggett, turning red, whirled around on Mulder and glared at him. But Mulder had seriously gotten into the wine during dinner. He was totally smashed. Scully threw up her hands in an "I'm sorry" gesture, and her partner gave Doggett a big goofy grin.  
  
Reyes tugged him away, muttering, "C'mon. Don't start."  
  
"Autumn Leaves," by Nat King Cole, was playing. Doggett and Reyes started to dance, quite close. Neither of them minded. They were really just sort of hugging and maneuvering themselves around in a little circle. And talking.  
  
"So," he said. "About back there, at my house."  
  
"What?" she asked.  
  
"I have to apologize to you. What I said was really inappropriate. Sorry."  
  
He thought he heard the sound of faraway breaking glass. It could have been her heart shattering, for the look on her face.  
  
"Monica?" he asked gently. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I . . . I just thought . . ." She breathed hard and looked away. She felt like crying. "You didn't mean it? You were just messing around?" she asked in a tiny voice.  
  
Now Doggett was just baffled. He admitted to feeling as such most of the time on the X-files, but not really when it came to Reyes.  
  
"Wait a minute. 'Didn't mean' what?"  
  
And Reyes made her decision. She would run with it. She'd press him until she found out what his intentions had been.  
  
"All that stuff," she said, and then sniffed. "In the bedroom. Smiling at me in your underwear. Letting me hold you so you could stretch. Suggesting I spend a lot more time at your place. It was all a joke?"  
  
Weepy from the wine at dinner, a tear leaked out of her left eye and ran down her face. Doggett's heart started to hammer. His mouth went completely dry. And he realized he'd been just a tad too . . . subtle, of all things. Marines, cops, and Feds were not subtle. He had been all three. He silently commanded himself not to screw this up, and wiped her tear away with a thumb.  
  
"No," he said gently. "No, it wasn't a joke. None of that was a joke. You have no idea how good it is to have you in my life, Monica."  
  
He smiled at her, a little crooked grin, and held her tighter. She snuggled against him. Success.  
  
"And if you *wanted* to spend more time at my place," he continued in her ear, "You wouldn't get any complaints from me."  
  
"I'm so relieved you told me," she replied. "I thought you'd never figure out how I felt."  
  
"I don't know what you mean," he said playfully.  
  
"Oh please, John. Dana and I both knew you two were listening at the door today." She said, looked at him, and smiled as his countenance turned wide- eyed and ashen. "You have a lot to learn about espionage."  
  
He opened and closed his mouth a few times. Nothing came out. Reyes rescued him.  
  
"But on the plus side, you're a really good dancer."  
  
"Oh, good," he said, finding his voice. "I was afraid my sub-standard hiding skills would put me out of your league."  
  
She leaned forward and their foreheads touched. "Never," she whispered.  
  
They continued to dance for a while, until somebody bumped into Doggett. It was Scully, who appeared to be superglued to Mulder.  
  
"Hi, guysh," she said, a little tipsy. "Havin' fun?" And she winked at Reyes, who nodded back with a knowing grin.  
  
"Hey! 'Ya know what?" Mulder asked. "If 'ya --- If 'ya cross your eyes, there's six a' you!"  
  
He demonstrated, amusing everyone. Scully gave her friends an embarrassed shrug and pulled Mulder away to a relatively deserted spot on the floor, where they wouldn't crash into anybody.  
  
Skinner looked at his watch. In an hour, Sharon would be home, back from her business trip out of town. He'd left a message on the machine so she'd know where he was, but knew enough not to suggest she come. She was probably bone-tired. Too tired to dance, but just awake enough to listen to his interesting story. He was sure she'd appreciate it.  
  
He watched the two couples. Doggett and Reyes were moving clumsily around in a circle, but clearly enjoying themselves. And Mulder and Scully looked, rather annoyingly, like they were built to dance with each other. Even with Mulder piss drunk (and Scully little better), they were moving like a champion couple.  
  
Skinner wondered for a minute what it would look like if they were both sober, and then realized that if that was the case, they would probably just be having sex instead of dancing. And that was something he *definitely* wouldn't be watching.  
  
The DJ had just finished spinning some classic rock, and then put on a CD. "And here's something for all you Country fans out there," he said. "Get ready to two-step!"  
  
Scully and Mulder looked a little confused by this, but Reyes and Doggett grinned at each other.  
  
"Now here's some real dance music," Doggett said, as the rhythmic, ramming guitar intro came in.  
  
Reyes smiled. It was modern Country --- Phil Vassar. One of her favorite songs. They grabbed each other and started to step their way across the floor.  
  
"When you stop and laugh out loud,  
  
When you're falling fast asleep,  
  
When you're in the middle of a crowd,  
  
When you're lying there holdin' me,  
  
When you softly say my name,  
  
When you're high and when you're low,  
  
You don't need me to explain,  
  
'Cause you already know.  
  
When you smile . . .  
  
That way . . .  
  
You're in my heart . . .  
  
Every night and day!"  
  
The chorus hit in a blast of guitar and drums, and their dance exploded like a supernova.  
  
"That's when I love you, when I need you, when I care about you.  
  
That's when I know, without a doubt, that I can't live without you.  
  
Every day I find another reason, every season we go through,  
  
Every little thing you do . . . That's when I love you!"  
  
They whirled and stamped to the pounding beat, Doggett turning Reyes and letting her fly out like a yo-yo before pulling her in again. They were throbbing with life, fire racing through their veins. They took the floor by storm. It was their moment.  
  
"When you're driving in your car,  
  
When you dance and sing to the radio,  
  
When you're walking underneath the stars,  
  
Anywhere and everywhere you go,  
  
When you're dressed up or you're dressed down,  
  
When you're talkin' on the phone,  
  
A million people all around,  
  
When you're all alone.  
  
When you're near . . .  
  
Or you're far . . .  
  
You're in my heart . . .  
  
No matter where you are!"  
  
The chorus kicked in again and everybody on the floor got into it. Mulder hooked his hands in an imaginary belt and tipped an equally imaginary hat to Scully. She started laughing and shook her hips invitingly. Doggett and Reyes were pulling off some pretty energetic moves, too. Skinner just hung back at the table with a grin and watched the others enjoy themselves.  
  
They danced until after midnight, hard and fast. All four agents were feeling happy and panting. Scully might have gotten technical and called their glee a case of "hyper-oxygenated euphoria," but she was too busy trying to stay upright. It was a challenge --- Mulder was no longer ripped, but he was pretty dizzy. He'd spent the last few minutes swaying like a palm tree in a hurricane.  
  
At one, the evening was almost over. The songs were slowing down. Doggett knew he was slick with sweat and hoped he didn't smell too bad. Reyes didn't seem to care how he smelled, given that she was crushed against him, a pleasant buzz in her head that had nothing to do with the wine.  
  
Mulder's head was starting to clear. He was holding Scully gently, resting his chin on her hair. Scully could feel the sweat pooling at the small of her back. She nuzzled against Mulder and yawned. It had been a heck of a night.  
  
***  
  
They all said goodbye out in front of the club. Doggett made sure Skinner had the card safely back in his possession. The A.D. was just pulling the tie on his overcoat taut as a cab pulled up.  
  
"It was a really nice evening, sir," Scully said to him as he got in. "Say 'hi' to Sharon for us, okay?"  
  
"Will do," he said.  
  
"Good. See you Monday."  
  
The four agents waved goodbye to him from the sidewalk, and he waved back through the window. Nobody felt like driving, so they waited to flag down cabs. Just as another cab arrived to take Reyes and Doggett away, Scully nudged Reyes with a smile.  
  
"Where 'ya going?" she asked, singsong.  
  
"Hmm. I think . . . I'm going to sleep in the Doghouse tonight," Reyes responded, her eyes cloudy with drink and lust. Then she snapped to life with a joke. "And maybe if my dog is good, I'll rub his belly."  
  
She and Scully both laughed. Mulder and Doggett, who were standing together, couldn't hear their partners very well. They just shook their heads. Despite this interesting experiment today, they were positive they'd never understand the secret language of women.  
  
But that didn't mean they wouldn't try.  
  
The men shook hands and said goodnight. Doggett strode over to the cab.  
  
"You be good to him, now," Scully whispered to Reyes, then raised her voice. "Oh, this was so much fun! Have a nice weekend!" She hugged her.  
  
"Hey, Monica!" Doggett said, grinning. He was holding open the car door for her. "Cab's this way. C'mon. Let's get you home."  
  
Mulder snorted and said, "*Whose* home?" under his breath. Because after all, he wasn't blind.  
  
Monica didn't hear this. She laughed and wobbled over to the cab. Doggett helped her in, but she managed nudge him out of the way, wave spastically at Mulder and Scully, and yell, "Goodnight, you two! See 'ya Monday!"  
  
Doggett got in after her. They all waved at each other as the cab took off into the night. Scully leaned against Mulder in the lamplight, and the wind whipped at her hair. Safe and warm in her overcoat, she pressed her face against his chest, feeling the scratchy wool of the sweater he'd pulled over his turtleneck and the twisting, sinewy muscles underneath his clothes.  
  
She was just about to doze off on his shoulder when Mulder shook her gently. A cab had materialized out of nowhere, and it was time to go.  
  
***  
  
2 AM  
  
Falls Church  
  
Doggett and Reyes had mentally been preparing for a night like this, admittedly or not, since they'd first met each other nine years ago. Reyes had been thinking about comfortable sheets. Maybe candles. Some soft music. Doggett had been thinking much the same, except without the music. He didn't go in for that.  
  
Unfortunately, it didn't work out quite the way they'd planned. At two a.m., Doggett found himself on his bed, in his boxers and an undershirt. Reyes had scrubbed off all her make-up, and was laying there next to him in one of his big USMC t-shirts and her panties.  
  
They were both so exhausted from dancing and talking and eating and figuring out what they wanted from each other, that there was no energy left to actually act on their desires. They were too tired to move.  
  
"Goddammit," Doggett muttered. "We're so damn old. And we have no planning skills at all."  
  
He really wanted to say that they should have been going at it like rabbits by now, but figured that would offend Reyes. And that was the last thing he wanted to do.  
  
She just laughed at his spoken comment and yawned. "Don't sweat it, John. There's always tomorrow night."  
  
And she watched in amusement as his eyes got really wide.  
  
"You --- You wanna come back tomorrow night?" he asked, cautiously.  
  
She turned to him. "You had plans that didn't involve me?" she asked.  
  
"N-No! No! Of course not. It's just that I didn't expect . . ."  
  
He was fumbling, and Reyes found this adorable.  
  
"Stay," he finally blurted out. "Stay the weekend. Would you like to?"  
  
"I would love to."  
  
The subtext was not lost on Doggett. He smiled, and calmed down a little.  
  
"Good. I just . . ." He broke off with a low laugh and shook his head. "I'm so stupid."  
  
Reyes tsked and said, "No you're not."  
  
"Oh, yes, I am. My God. Nine years of knowing you and I never realized . . . Wow."  
  
She smiled. "Now you realize."  
  
"Yeah," he said, his voice gravelly. "I get it."  
  
And he kissed her. It was all they had the energy for at the moment, and it was chaste and quick, but it was wonderful. Doggett turned out the lights. They undid the covers, got underneath, and settled down to sleep in each others' arms.  
  
***  
  
2 AM  
  
Alexandria, VA  
  
Scully and Mulder didn't even make it to Mulder's bedroom, at first. They ended up "sitting" on his couch, sleeping with their sore feet propped up on the coffee table and their faces turned towards each other. He snored in her face for half an hour before he woke up from a dream. Then it hit him that the couch was no place for two people to sleep at once.  
  
So he picked Scully up and carried her to the bedroom. It never failed to amaze him --- how she was physically so small, but such a large, powerful, loving presence in his life. She'd done a pretty good job of looking out for him today, he thought.  
  
Then he started thinking about how she always looked out for him, as best she could, always worried for him. How he tried to look out for her, and love her, too, in his own clumsy way. How it was so rare that either of their efforts worked out. How they'd finally gotten it right.  
  
It had been a night of tea, Chinese take-out dumplings, deep conversation about Stonehenge and "visions," and outrageously good sex. His heart was rising in his chest as he carried her. After years of indecision and odd looks and almost-kisses interrupted by insects, they'd finally done the deed.  
  
The memory wafted over him --- they were cuddled in the sheets, talking of the future.  
  
He asked, "Are you sure? Because as they say in the psychology business, I'm 'damaged goods.' There's some pieces missing, here."  
  
She responded, "Are *you* sure? Because I'm not precisely a bowl of sunshine. Don't count on me to bring you out of every black mood, Mulder."  
  
They recognized simultaneously how ridiculous they were acting, cracked up, and laughed till they cried. And finally, they just let themselves be in love.  
  
Nobody got shot. The world didn't end. Everything was suddenly so simple.  
  
She made him whole.  
  
And he made her happy.  
  
Snapping back to the present, he shifted her in his arms and turned sideways to get through his bedroom doorway.  
  
"Sometimes," he whispered, "I feel so much for you, it hurts."  
  
She didn't wake as he laid her down on the bed, but when he started to undress her, she squirmed and snuffled, and came awake enough to help him out. Down to her underwear, she pulled on a big shirt she kept at his place. He undressed too, and they both fell asleep under the covers, an exhausted tangle of limbs and hair and quiet breathing. Conversation could wait until dawn. Or noon. Whatever.  
  
***  
  
2 AM  
  
Crystal City, VA  
  
Walter and Sharon Skinner had just finished doing their own special dance. The best parts of this dance, at least according to Walter, were its requirements and location: no clothes and a soft mattress, respectively. They were holding each other tight, passing hands over flesh, whispering nothings in ears, and letting their lips meet . . . whatever they met. They hadn't done it that energetically in a while.  
  
Half an hour earlier, Skinner had come home and told his wife about his loopy day as a secretary, winning a few sympathetic "awww"s and plenty of laughs. And about fifteen minutes after that, she was sitting in bed with him. She'd written herself a reminder to send "thank-you" notes to both Scully and Reyes. They'd taken care of her husband's fashion needs quite well --- she'd seen the outfit. The rain pattered outside.  
  
Her eyes were feeling very heavy when there was a light, gritty touch on her shoulder. She turned to see the man she'd happily married, nearly separated from, and reconciled with. He was looking at her in adoration, his brown eyes dark with desire.  
  
For you see, Walter Skinner was a wise man who knew the words "delayed" and "gratification." Instead of wasting his energy on the dance floor that evening, he had saved it up for something far more important. And had he had any breath left when it was over, he would have commented that it was "very, very good."  
  
THE END!  
  
***  
  
Happy endings make life better, don't you think?  
  
For those of you who are just getting here, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! If you leave a review, fantastic. If you don't, that's cool too. I hope you enjoyed the story. *I* certainly had a good time writing it.  
  
If you have reviewed this sucker before Sunday evening, September 29, 2002, please go on to the AUTHOR'S NOTE. There's some "pontificating" and a BIG Thank You waiting for you.  
  
All the best,  
  
Kiki 8=) 


	11. Author's Note

Author's Note:  
  
Why do these stories of mine always turn into marathons? I have no idea. My fingers are sore from dancing on the keyboard too much.  
  
Anyway, if you'll allow me, I'd like to prattle on for a few seconds and then thank everything under the sun.  
  
*clears throat*  
  
The X-files is about the Truth. And on the surface it is a brilliant work of science fiction. But beneath the aliens and the monsters and the things that go bump in the night, there is a very different kind of truth hidden in this narrative --- the truth about men and women.  
  
Our humanity is a truth. It's not necessarily the one that Mulder seeks, but it's overwhelmingly important. It makes us brave, petty, funny, dour, loving, weird, enlightened, stupid, good, and bad. And we can be all these things at once. To be human is to be a bundle of contradictions.  
  
This, ultimately, is why so many viewers and writers and artists respond to the X-files. Because instead of being about aliens, it's a show about people. And people are fascinating.  
  
Particularly when they're in drag.  
  
This was so much fun to write. As one reviewer said, "It's been hell of a ride." Thank you for taking a chance on my story.  
  
I want to give a huge shout-out to the "cast of thousands" who have reviewed it so far, and another big "thank you so much for reading" to those of you who may or may not review this after reading the last chapter.  
  
School is starting up tomorrow and it's going to be nuts, so I want to say "thank you" now, to everybody, before the opportunity slips away.  
  
As far as reviews went, I recognized many friends. I "met" some fellow authors who I don't know, but would like to. Some people hit this thing with comments, like, four times. And there were some truly bizarre folks who just swooped in, yelled "Yay!" and took off. THANK YOU ALL!  
  
Now. I have some quick messages to some people. If I don't have a message for you, it doesn't mean I don't like you, or something crazy like that. It just means I can't say anything but "thank you from the bottom of my heart."  
  
Because while "thank you from the bottom of my heart" is nice, if it's repeated ten bajillion times, it's the most boring Author's Note I've ever heard of. LOL  
  
Here we go.  
  
***  
  
Jamie: I love you too. I read your "lapis lazuli" story and it was wonderful. Bravo.  
  
MulderScully'sBogusJourney: I'm still laughing at the "Jeopardy" story. Your website KICKS ASS! Thanks for reading.  
  
Lli: Glad you liked Mulder's nails, hee hee.  
  
Jess: Thanks for your support!  
  
Skye: Thank you for cheering me on! :D  
  
Emmi/Himlaithiel: All hail, fair Elf Queen. I saw you went out and read my other stuff besides this one, and I saw ALL of your amazingly kind reviews. THANK YOU SO MUCH! YOU ARE AWESOME!  
  
Jamie Sculder: WHOOOOOOOOOO! GO NEBRASKA!!!!!!! Thank you for hanging with the story. Hope you had a good time.  
  
Dionne :] : Glad to know this thing caused a ruckus in computer lab. Computer labs are incomplete without ruckuses. Is that the word? Ruckuses? Maybe it's Ruckusi? Oh, well. Thanks for reading.  
  
DrFoxyMoron: Thanks for reading, and thank you for the other review you left on another story I wrote. What a compliment! :D  
  
"twirlgirl104": I'm so excited that you thought I kept everybody in character. Thanks!  
  
Jinnyah: Thank you for your enthusiasm. YOU ROCK!  
  
Erin m.: Wow! *blushes*  
  
Rainbow Stevie: Your name is way cool. Good luck with all your funny projects. I'll keep an eye out for them.  
  
Beth Carrielle: Thank you for reviewing this story, and also for reviewing "Mrs. Robinson and Me." I'm glad I made you laugh again. :]  
  
Aloof: Oh sweetie, don't cry! You're gonna make ME cry! Thank you so much for sticking with this. I appreciate it.  
  
ScullySayer: My heart was doing eighty miles an hour when I read your comment. THANK YOU!  
  
Freelancer Starbuck: Sorry about your neighbors. I take full responsibility. LOL  
  
lec: Muchas gracias. :] What a nice thing to say.  
  
Katie: Sorry about your keyboard. LOL But thanks for reading!  
  
Gem: Thanks for faithfully following along, and more importantly, making yourself known!  
  
Coral717: I'm stunned. I have deep respect for the X-files writers because THEY take unbelievable premises and make them believable every week. If I, an amateur, somehow managed to do that . . . Wow. You just blew my mind. Thank you.  
  
Jillian: Thanks for reviewing! I've read your work and I admire it very much, but my memory is for crap, sometimes. I can't remember if I reviewed any of it or not. Just in case I haven't --- YOU ROCK! :]  
  
long under tree: I've indeed written other stuff. Just click on my name at the top of this story, and you'll find it. Is it funny? Hmm. Well, that depends on . . . if you think it's funny or not. LOL  
  
***  
  
So, that's it for the messages. I want to once again thank EVERYBODY for their awesome support of this story. And I'm glad I got to write my little messages and say "Thank you." I am so grateful to everyone. :]  
  
I'm also an old-fashioned girl. If you write me a letter, I will write *you* a letter. I promise.  
  
For those of you who read, keep reading! And for those of you who write, all the best in your creative endeavors. Cheers!  
  
Until we meet again,  
  
Kiki  
  
8=D (That's my happy little alien face.)  
  
This thing was FINISHED, FINALLY, on September 29, 2002. 


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